


Edinburgh To Boston

by LadyJane518



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Explicit Language, F/M, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Humor, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Sexual Assault, Slow Burn, Smut, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-11
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2019-10-26 03:15:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 46,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17737946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJane518/pseuds/LadyJane518
Summary: This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together.  The problem is they just don't know it yet.





	1. The Airport

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. it is a multichapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

 

Edinburgh to Boston

Prologue

We all have a destiny. Some of us are destined to be lawyers, doctors, nurses, politicians, superstar athletes, movie stars, spouses, parents, or lovers.

How do we achieve our Destiny? Some philosophers are of the belief that our destiny is preordained even before we are born. One’s Destiny, if you subscribe to this belief, is written in the stars.

Other thinkers espouse the concept that we arrive at our Destiny through our own behaviors. We are the makers of our own Destiny. What we do, or say, or don’t do or say will influence the outcome of our Destiny.  
But what happens when we ignore the call of our Destiny and walk right by it?

That my friend is when Fate can step in. Fate presents us with the necessary opportunities to attain our Destiny. Fate may lend a hand to the matter to goose things along as it were. Particularly when your Destiny is staring you right in the face and you are too blind or too afraid to see it.

This is the story of two would be lovers, one Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and one James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who have been and are destined to come together. They are soul mates, destined to become one with each other. But because they have allowed their fears to guide them, they have remained in the dreaded relationship called - _friends._

That is until Fate steps in to give these two eejits a swift kick in the arse.

*********************************  
Edinburgh to Boston

Chapter One - The Airport

“Well, it’s about time, Fraser!” Dr. Claire Beauchamp huffed making no effort to hide her annoyance. “If you were any later, you would have missed the flight.”

“Aye, aye Beauchamp, I ken,” apologized Dr. James Fraser. “There was more traffic heading to the airport which delayed me.”

He looked remarkably put together for a man in a suit and overcoat and not in the least bit breathless in spite of sprinting through Edinburgh airport with his luggage and that damn oversized messenger bag that he always carried.

"Besides Beauchamp, when have I ever let ye down?”

Claire glared at her colleague, friend, her surgical partner, “Humph, I thought this was going to be…Rome all over again.”

James’ face turned a bright red, his normally placid sky blue eyes darkened, narrowing to slits emphasizing their cat-like shape.

“Dinna bring up the Rome trip. Ye ken fine well that I had a skiing accident a few days before we were to leave.”

Oh, she did ken alright. The weekend before their trip to Rome for a Cardiothoracic surgery conference was the annual ski trip that several of the surgical attendings went on. That year they went to Glencoe Mountain. Among those going were Angus Moor, MD, general surgery, Ian Ross, MD, ENT, Rupert Mackenzie, MD, orthopedic surgery, Iona Baird, MD, vascular surgery and last but most certainly not least Laoghaire Mackenzie, MD, plastic surgery who wanted to sink her manicured claws into my partner.

_She with a face so smooth and so frozen as to be expressionless when she spoke. Claire wondered how her mouth moved. Did she give herself her own Botox injections? If she stopped would her face fall down? Be nice Beauchamp, she thought._

“What was it you broke, your leg was it?” she asked sweetly.

James flushed hotly. “Ye ken it wasna my leg.”

“It was my arse” he mumbled.

“I beg your pardon. I didn’t quite hear you.”

“I broke my arse. The coccyx bone. It hurt like the devil. I couldna sit, spent most of my time on my belly or using the doughnut to sit on. Are ye satisfied now?”

He was blushing furiously from his neck right up to his hairline. His ears must have been burning as they were bright red.

“Rupert offered to fix it. I told him it would be a cold day in hell before I let him near my arse.”

Claire turned around to stare at his injured arse lifting up the skirt of his suit jacket. It looked the same to her. In fact, it looks fine, very fine indeed. _What I wouldn’t give to just… Did I just think that?_

“Dinna be staring at my arse, Beauchamp.” He brusquely swatted my hand away from his jacket. “It hasna changed at all!”

An elderly couple sitting in the same waiting area were busy watching this exchange with a smirk on their faces trying very hard not to laugh.

“Have a care Beauchamp, do ye no realize we are in public and people are watching?” A second later, “If ye wanna look do it in private,” James murmured so softly as to be almost unintelligible, but Claire heard him.

“Pardon? I didn’t get what you last said.”

“Nuthin’.”

“Just consider it professional curiosity, Fraser, is all.” Claire snorted letting out with another loud guffaw.  
“And did Laoghaire apply ice packs to your bum for you?” By now Claire was roaring with laughter. Tears were rolling down her face, her sides ached, and she could not get her breath.

Dr. James _‘my body is a temple’_ Fraser, who never ate anything unhealthy, worked out daily, took the stairs instead of the elevator, all-around athlete and horseman, broke his arse skiing. It was just too much. Claire managed to catch her breath long enough to ask him how he had sustained such an ignoble injury.

  
James, a true born Scot, loved to tell stories. He entertained everyone from patients to nursing staff, to the office staff with stories from the Highlands. Stories of selkies, faeries, water horses, magic stones were told and told often to the delight of everyone. Now, despite the fact that he was telling a very embarrassing personal story, he settled into his storytelling mode.

“The lads and I had a wee bit too much to drink with lunch, ye see.”

She could see. Whisky was James’ only vice and he could easily have had one too many at lunch.

“So, since I was the best skier in the group, the lads challenged me to ski the _Flypaper_. Do ye ken the _Flypaper_ , Beauchamp?”

She shook her head no.

“Hum, weel the _Flypaper_ is considered the steepest slope in all Scotland. Some say maybe it is the steepest in all Europe. It is considered a black run, for experts only. So I took the challenge.” He shrugged.

“After having too much to drink, you decided it was a wise choice to ski down this black slope thing? Fraser, what were thinking?” By now Claire wasn’t laughing anymore, she looked at him as if he was desperately in need of a brain transplant. Heart transplants she could do, brain transplants, no.

“Obviously, Beauchamp, no much,” James said wryly. “The slope is quite steep maybe 40 to 45 degrees, ye ken. So there I am in my tuck, sliding, gliding along, feeling so free.”

“You mean drunk, don’t you Fraser?”

James glared at her.

“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, my skis hit a rock outcrop that was buried under the snow and I went sailing so high, I felt like a bird. I could see everything and everyone around me. It was beautiful. Until I landed on my arse and bounced down the slope for a while before I came to a stop.”

James stopped momentarily in the telling of his story to look at Claire giving her a rather sheepish grin. Claire’s eyes began to crinkle with mirth all while biting her lower lip in an attempt not to laugh.

“I didna feel anything at first having been properly medicated, so I finished the run. By the time I got to my room, it was quite a different story. My arse hurt sae bad, I couldna walk, sit or do much of anything else. Rupert said I had broken my coccyx and there was naught to do about it except rest, ice it, and take some non-steroidal pain meds. I told ye that Rupert jokingly offered to fix it, but I declined.”

Claire began to laugh again, imagining him flying in the air, then landing on his bum bouncing his way down the ski slope. Her sides were hurting, it was hard to catch her breath, and tears were rolling down her face. She felt like she couldn’t stand anymore, so she did the next best thing and leaned into James’ chest.

Claire looked up into his clear blue eyes, now shining bright with laughter. His lip was curled up into his trademark half smile. Slowly, his arms came round to hold her.

“'Tis funny now, I’ll tell ye, but it wasna then. Ye were right about Laoghaire. Laoghaire did offer to bring the ice, but I said nay. Rupert got it for me. For my troubles, the lads bought me a bottle of Glenfiddich 30-year-old single malt whisky. Havena opened it yet. Ye like to take a dram or two do ye no, Claire?”

Her breathing began to ease and she suddenly became aware that she was in James’ embrace. His blue eyes were intent on her. His head lowered and he looked like he wanted to kiss her and kiss her for all she was worth. Quickly, Claire took two steps back breaking the embrace.

“Well, Fraser, I hope you learned your lesson,” she said rather sternly, “not only did you break your arse, but you broke your word to your partner. Rather bad form don’t you think?.”

“Aye, Beauchamp, I did and it was. You have my deepest apology for my poor judgment and behavior. I left ye stranded and that was wrong of me. I am yer partner, yer friend, and ye should be able to count on me. I promise ye it will never happen again. I dinna make idle promises Beauchamp. Ye have my word.”

  
He looked at her rather strangely just then. There was the distinct feeling that she was looking at a Highlander, a warrior making his vow of fealty to his laird or perhaps to his lady. His piercing blue eyes stared straight into her soul. All the hairs along the nape of her neck and on her arms stood up. Claire's heart began to beat faster. How odd, she thought.

The old woman sitting on the hard plastic chair nudged her husband in the side with her elbow, "Ye see Harry, I told ye. They’re in love. They just dinna ken it yet.” She softly chortled. Her husband smiled lovingly at her, brought her aged work-worn hand to his lips and kissed it tenderly. He nodded in agreement, “Just as I love ye mo ghràdh.”

_Flight 9838 Edinburgh to Boston Logan International Airport now boarding at Gate 43. Please have yer boarding passes ready._


	2. The Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie and Claire are two cardiothoracic surgeons on their way to a conference in Boston. They are in love with each other. Only they don't know it yet. Fate plans to lend a hand to the two destined lovers through the auspices of Harry and Maizie MacLennan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. It is a multichapter story. I just don't know how many chapters as it keeps changing each time I outline the story.  
> This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

 

The Conversations

Harry and Maizie’s Story

Harry and Maizie MacLennan were on their way to Boston to visit with their son Ronald and daughter-in-law Margaret after the birth of their third son David.  Margaret would need help with the new wean as the MacLennan’s other two lads were little rascals. Robert was now six and Edward recently turned four.  Robert or Rabbie as the family called him, had no compunction with expressing his opinions on anything and everything. During Harry and Maizie’s last visit Rabbie, then aged 5 decided to discuss the facts of life with his Grannie.

“Grannie?”

“Yes, a bhalaich?”

“Do ye ken yer auld?”

“I dinna ken yer meaning lad. What’s wrong with being auld?”

“I saw ye kissin’ Grandda.  Auld people dinna do that.  They’re too auld. I see Mam and Da kissin’ like you and Grandda.  Their auld too. They shouldna be doing things like that.”

Masie lifted the boy up, placing him on her lap, cuddling him to her chest.

“Listen to me Rabbie. I love yer Grandda with all my heart just as yer Mam and Da love each other.  When ye love someone that’s one of the ways tae show it.  I love ye too so I give ye a kiss now and then, too aye?” Maizie proceeded to kiss Rabbie on the top of his silky blond hair inhaling his little boy scent. Rabbie smelled of peanut butter and jelly, soap, and with a hint of ground in dirt.

“So, when ye love a girl, ye haveta kiss her? I didna like kissin’, especially girls.” Rabbie wrinkles his nose and grimaces.

“Laddie,” said his Grandda walking in on the conversation, “Someday ye will change yer mind. Someday ye will be chasing after some fair maid looking to kiss her.”

Looking aghast, Rabbie jumped off his Grannie’s lap making a Scottish sound of disgust and ran out of the room arms and legs churning at near marathon speed.

Harry bent over giving Maizie a proper kiss and sighed, “Ye ken that lad will be a handful when he’s grown. He’ll be chasin’ after the lassies. Fathers’ will needta lock their lassies up when he’s around. He’ll be a right Romeo that lad.”

“Aye, he will,” chuckled Maizie, “much like his Da and his Grandda afore him. At least until he finds his one true love that is.”

Maizie reached up and lovingly stroked Harry’s cheek. “Just like we did when we found each other.”

Clearly, Harry and Maizie were still deeply in love after 48 years of wedded bliss.  Maise firmly believes that there is a match for everyone. With this firmly entrenched belief in place, Maise made it her mission in life to help others find their true love when it was staring them in the face and they were too busy with their heads up their arse to ken it. Maizie’s eyes gleamed with excitement and anticipation. James and Claire were her next victims, er… love match. Harry was her willing accomplice in her endeavors to bring would be lovers together. Sometimes people just needed a little nudge toward each other to see what others so obviously saw.

Divide and conquer that was the plan.  She would take the woman and leave Harry to deal with the man.

***************

The Conversations

“On yer way to Boston, too, I see. My husband Harry and I are on our way to see our new grandson David. I’m Maizie by the way.”

Claire thought that was apparent since they were boarding the same plane, but she thought she should be polite “Yes, I am, ah… pleased to meet you, I’m Claire,” she gave Maizie a pleasant smile while continuing to walk up the passageway quickly.

Masie, not to be brushed off that easily hurried to keep up with Claire. “I see yer handsome husband is accompanying ye. He’s a braw lad is he no?” Maizie grinned at Claire.

“Oh, he’s not my husband.  We work together.  We’re going on a business trip together. A business conference.”

Maizie’s suspicions were confirmed. They were not married.

“Oh, ‘tis a shame, him being such a handsome young man. I was sure he was yer husband after the way he was looking at ye as if he would devour ye.” Maizie winked suggestively at Claire. “Did ye no notice lass?”

That stopped Claire in her tracks. “He did? I didn’t notice. Are you sure?” Claire turned around to look for James, hoping to get a look at his face to see if he indeed wanted to devour her. James was nowhere in sight.

Claire returned to walking up the passageway, “No, I think you’re mistaken. I’m definitely not his type, not at all.” Claire made a small sighing sound almost of disappointment.

“I have been married nigh on 48 years to my husband. It was a love match truly and I ken another when I see it. Take a good look at him lass and ye’ll see it in his eyes. ‘Tis how my Harry looks at me.” Maizie took Claire’s hand in hers giving it a gentle squeeze, “Take my advice lass. Take a good look at him. He’s yers.”

She then gave Claire’s shoulder a little nudge, “Besides having a husband ‘tis a good thing; he keeps my feet warm at night if ye ken my meaning.” Maizie looked at Claire gave her a wicked grin and walked off to find her seat swinging her hips.

Claire stood at her seat watching as Maizie walked up the aisle looking for her seat.  She was flabbergasted.  How could this woman see James’ attraction to her when she could not?  What did she miss? She decided she had the whole flight to think about it.

************

Harry needed to cause a distraction to keep the man from reaching the woman quickly. Harry spun his suitcase on its wheels causing him to lose control of it and nearly knock James over. James swiftly reached out grabbed the handle immediately dealing with the errant suitcase.

“Thank ye laddie, I dinna ken what happened with yon grip. Seems it had taken on a mind of its own.” Harry chortled genially as James handed the suitcase back to him.  "Harry MacLennan,“ he said offering his hand to James.

"Aye, weel ‘tis no matter. Glad I could be of assistance to ye Mr. MacLennan, James Fraser.” James smiled at the gentleman shaking his hand. He turned and started to walk away from Harry up the ramp.

Harry not to lose his opportunity, kept pace with James.

“I do apologize for keeping ye from yer lovely wife. I see she has gone on ahead.”

“She’s no my wife, just a work colleague.” There was a remote sound of sadness in his voice.

“No yer wife! Why laddie, if she isna yer wife, she should be the way she looked at ye and came into yer arms. She looked quite comfortable there if ye dinna mind my saying so. I ken the look of love being married near on 48 years now. Married my Maizie when she was naught but a wee slip of a lass.  Stole her away from her Da I did.” Harry laughed heartily as he remembered.

“Besides,” Harry said covertly watching James to gauge his reactions, “The lass seemed fair taken with yer bum if ye ask me. Like a woman who knew what she wants.” Harry looked up to James with his green eyes glinting with mischief.  "If ye will take my meaning man.“ Harry chuckled sinfully.

James flushed scarlet, "Ye saw that then, and ye think…ye think she liked what she saw?” He asked incredulously.

“Looked like she was deciding what tae do with ye when she got ye alone.”

The flush deepened.

“Humor an auld man, aye? Take that lass, gie her a good look, ye ken, deep inta her eyes.  See her soul, who she is. Ye’ll be surprised at what ye see.  She’s yers, lad. Dinna let her go. G'day tae ye.” Harry doffed his hat and sauntered off in search of his wife and his seat.

James stood there watching Harry walk away, wondering what in God’s name he should do now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Maizie (aren't they cute!) have planted some thoughts in the heads of our two lovebirds. We will have to see what comes from it.  
> We will see what happens on this transatlantic flight, won't we? Trust me, it will be a rough flight.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.  
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/  
> Any constructive thoughts, suggestions, or comments are appreciated. I love to hear from you.


	3. The Flight - Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. it is a multichapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

 James found Claire standing by their seats struggling to put her carry on into the overhead compartment.

"Here, Beauchamp, let me help ye with that." James took the suitcase and easily slid both their cases into the compartment.

"Thank you, Fraser. That was most kind of you. I don't know how I would have managed." Claire looked up at James coquettishly through her eyelashes and flashed a charming smile.

"Ah...yer welcome. Anytime at all."

_Christ, is she flirting with me?_

May as well be a gentleman. "Beauchamp, umm, which seat would ye like, the window or the aisle? It doesna matter to me which seat I have."

"Oh no, James you must take the aisle seat. You would have more leg room it wouldn't do to be uncomfortable during such a long flight." Claire placed her hand over his squeezing gently.

 She felt it in an instant, the heat of the man as well as something else altogether.  It was an intense feeling, coursing through her hand, snaking up her arm, centering in her chest diffusing outward warming her body. It was like a radiant glowing sun growing, expanding, discharging heat and energy. Then there was something else. Something she could not put a name to but it pulsated, throbbed feeling primitive, primordial, something more...something dangerous, perhaps, possessive.  She never felt anything like it before. The sensations threatened to consume her, devour her. Isn't that what the woman said, he wanted to devour me? Could the old lady have been right? Could there be something between us?

Claire quickly removed her hand from James as if she had been burned. No, Claire decided. No, she decided she had let the old lady get into her head and she had to stop those thoughts now before things got out of hand.

_She is flirting with me!_

Tiny beads of sweat formed on James forehead and upper lip. He ran his finger along the collar of his blue dress shirt trying to let a little air in.

"A bit warm in here is no’ Beauchamp?" James asked as he took his suit jacket off feeling the cool air of the cabin brush across the sweat-dampened shirt molding to his back. His hands were damp too. Surreptitiously he rubbed them against his suit leg hoping that she wouldn't notice what he was doing. He dropped gracelessly into his seat placing his jacket over his lap, his head slumping back against the headrest.

Claire turned to look and her eyes went wide with shock. James had turned a rather unhealthy pasty color much like the color of day-old parritch. Sweat formed on his face and he looked a right mess.

"James, are you ill?" Claire asked a worried expression splayed across her face. "Do you feel faint?" "Are you having a heart attack? Do you feel chest pain?" She was becoming nervous and concerned. "Here let me see if you have a fever."

Her cool hand came to rest on his brow causing him to shiver at her touch. The man was a furnace, not with fever, but with his own body heat. She swiftly took his wrist checking his pulse, fast but regular. Breathing deep but again regular.

"Here let me help take off your tie."  Nimble fingers made quick work of removing James' tie and opening his collar. She began to fan James furiously with the magazine in the pocket of the seat. If she fanned any harder, she would have caused a tornado.

 _The woman will no’ stop touching me!_ "I'm fine, Beauchamp."

 _Her hand is_ sae _soft,_ sae _cool. I wonder what her bonny wee hand would feel like on_ my _…_

It was in that moment that James understood that settling his jacket across his lap was a very fortunate thing, as his traitorous anatomy would have put him in a very embarrassing and compromising position.

James closed his eyes, exhaled a deep, low, anguished groan. In an effort to gain control over himself, he began to mentally pray. Lord, I need ye guidance for the challenge I am to face. Grant me ye wisdom, strength, and direction.

Claire took James’ groaning to mean he was worsening. He didn’t look any better either. It seemed that he was growing paler by the second.

“James?” There was no response. “James!” Claire gave him a little shake. He still did not respond.  His pulse was strong and regular.

Fearing that the worst might happen, she signaled the flight attendant who popped up next to her like the jack-in-a-box.

Adopting her surgeon's persona, "I am Dr. Claire Beauchamp and this is Dr. James Fraser. Dr. Fraser is not well. I need your assistance." Claire proceeded to tell the attendant what she would need and gave her an imperious look sending the young woman scampering off.

With all her strength, Claire grabbed the blue button-down dress shirt and yanked it open sending the buttons flying in all directions like tiny projectile missiles. James' chest was exposed; it was toned, well muscled with copper-colored hair lightly furring his chest. I want to touch him.  

By this time the flight attendant returned carrying the AED.

The sound of tearing fabric prompted James swift return to consciousness; he looked at Claire, saw what she was doing and grabbed both her wrists.

"Beauchamp," James said very calmly, "What in hell are ye about? Have ye gone mad?"

Claire startled as if she was watching Lazarus rise from the dead.  Her eyes glistened with tears creeping toward the edges.

Her mouth quivered, moving wordlessly at first, "You...You're alright then?" Her face contorted with relief.  Claire’s hands cupped his cheeks tenderly and stared at his face searching for an answer to her question.  "I thought...I thought I would lose you," she said in a shaky voice. "I thought you were going to die. I had the AED here just in case." One hot fat tear escaped her eye striking James on the chest.

"Hush lass, dinna weep, it's alright, it's alright," he soothed."I was just taken queer for a moment, but I’m alright now. But does that mean if I am taken so again, ye'll try tae undress me once more?" he said while quirking an eyebrow at her and giving her a little chuckle.

Claire took hold of herself, appreciating James’ effort to try to make light of the whole matter allowing her time to regain her composure. She blotted at her eyes and sniffed.

"Don't get any ideas in your head from this Fraser. It just means that I am relieved you're not dead. I wouldn't want to have to go back to the chief and try to explain this. And by the way, be very grateful I didn't try to shock you," Claire huffed glaring at him as if this were all his fault.

“Aye, Claire, I am truly grateful ye did not. It would have hurt like hell,” he smirked.

Both she and James profusely thanked the flight attendant for her assistance and watched her walk off grumbling.  

James stood took down his suitcase, rootled about, found a new shirt and marched to the lavatory with all the dignity he possessed. He passed by where Harry and Maizie were sitting. Harry raised his hand signaling James to stop.

"A moment lad after ye've made yerself presentable, aye?"

James really did not want to talk to Harry again. He thought that Harry was trying to fill his head with ridiculous ideas. He decided he would just walk by.

No such luck.  Harry was waiting for him outside the door. Harry gave James a firm push back inside the lavatory, stepped in and locked the door. There was barely enough room for both large men to stand. James standing at 6' 4" and Harry at 6'; the room was positively claustrophobic.

"Ye ken horses lad?"

What does that have to do with anything? "Aye, I do. And what of it?"

"The lass loves ye, that I ken; it's just that she's scairt, like a young filly that's been misused ye ken.  Someone has hurt her, and hurt her bad. Ye ken what ye need to do with a scairt hurt filly? Be gentle with her."

"Mr. MacLennan, may I ask ye what ye do for a living, sir? Are ye a matchmaker? If so, I dinna require yer services."

"Why I'm a kilt maker,” replied Harry proudly. “And to answer yer other question, no, I am no’ a matchmaker.  Just a man who believes in the power of love. May I ask the same of ye sir, what is yer occupation?"

"I'm a heart surgeon."

"Weel lad, ye may ken how to repair other people's broken hearts. But ye have a long way to go to fix yer own and that lass. Mind what I say to ye." Harry gave James a look imploring him to heed what he said and left.

A kilt maker was giving James love advice. He thought he must be going soft in the heid.

*************************

As Harry pushed James into the lavatory, Maizie took off from her seat rushing up to speak with Claire.  She found Claire picking up the buttons from James’ shirt that had been scattered literally everywhere.  The buttons not only contained the threads in the holes but pieces of the shirt itself were still attached.

Maizie spoke to Claire tenderly, “Lass, are ye alright? And yer lad, is he alright then?”

Claire looked up taking in the genuine concern written across Maizie’s face. “Yes, we’re alright. I guess you saw what happened.”

Maizie chuckled, “Ye caused such a stramash that I think the whole plane kens what happened.”

Claire was mortified. Her face glowed a lovely shade of rose reaching to the tops of her ears. She covered her face and uttered a small sob.

Maizie, in her best grandmotherly gestures, pulled Claire to her bosom and gently cradled her head against her shoulder. “There, there lass, ye meant well.  Ye were only protecting yer man.”

“He’s not mine,” Claire said whimpering against Maizie’s shoulder.

“Aye, lass he is. Ye just dinna ken it and neither does he. What kind of work do ye and yon man do?”

Claire looked at Maizie, tears running down her cheeks, “We’re heart surgeons.”

“I kent ye for a smart lass. I’m going to give you a bit of advice, be yerself, lass, no’ his doctor. Hmmm? All he wants is ye. He loves ye, I am certain of it.”

“But what if he doesn’t like what he finds? I’m afraid I could lose him as my friend.” Claire did not know why she was confiding in this woman who she had known for all of 10 minutes. There was something about the force of her personality that compelled trust.

“Claire, give the lad a chance. He is a special one. Lads like him dinna come along every day.” Maizie gave her a knowing look, “I ken his type well. Trust him.”

Maizie lifted Claire’s chin up.  She inspected Claire’s face, removed a clean but crumpled tissue from her sleeve and wiped away Claire’s tears. Maizie held the tissue to Clare’s nose, “Now blow.” Claire did as she was told.

“Besides, ye are building memories with the lad. Even if ye dinna think them to be good just now.  Ye will laugh at them in later years. On this, ye can be sure.” Maizie smiled and winked at Claire.

Claire leaned toward Maizie, gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thank you Maizie, for everything.”

“‘Twas nothing Claire.  Here,” Maizie handed Claire the buttons she was holding.

“I needta get back to my seat or Harry will worry I ran off with another man.” Maizie gave her a wink and turned hurriedly walking back toward her seat.

Claire sat down, wondering how she would apologize to James.

*******************

Maizie made it back to her seat before Harry came out of the lavatory. Harry took his seat next to Maizie and nodded his head.

“Ye spoke with the lass?”

“I did and ye were right.  She was hurt by someone. Who, I dinna ken. I think she was hurt bad though. She is afraid to lose him.  I told her to just be herself. Did ye speak with him?”

“Aye told him I thought she had been hurt before and was scairt. I told him that he needs to be gentle with her.”

“I think we gave them the best advice we could have. It’s all up to them now,” said Harry with a shrug.

“Aye, ‘tis,” Maizie agreed.  All we can do now is hope for the best.” Harry and Maizie’s hands intertwined. Harry raised her hand to his lips and kissed her wedding ring. “Tha gaol agam ort, mo chridhe.” Maizie looked Harry with such love and devotion and said, “And I you.” She kissed him sweetly on the lips.

*********************

James returned to his seat making himself comfortable after a harrowing start to his trip.

He found Claire sitting there serenely, although it looked as if she had been crying before.

“Fraser, I want to apologize for all the trouble I caused you.  Of course, I will pay for the shirt I tore.” Claire blushed at the mention of the shirt.

“Dinna fash, Beauchamp. It’s nay bother. I ken ye were trying to help.  I’m glad of it.  Always kent ye would be there for me. Even if ye kill me in the process.”

Claire gave him a wry smile and gently jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.  “Thank you for understanding.”

He laughed, smiled graciously at her, and patted her hand ending the matter.

The jet made its final turn on to the runway. With a roar of the engines, the jet began to gain speed, gaining momentum leaving the terminal buildings behind in a blur. The jet thrust forward, cutting through the air freeing itself of its earthly bonds and suddenly it was airborne.

Finally. They were on their way. James relaxed into his seat sinking down as deeply as he could and he drifted off into what would become a fitful sleep.

Claire, too, yawned and stretched. Sank down into the cushioned seat, curling into herself as best as she could.  Soon she was carried off by Hypnos into the land of sleep.

_There was music and dancing. Claire was in the arms of a tall red-headed man dancing around the room with the other couples. The music was fast; she was spinning and twirling about.  The man took hold of her by the waist, lifting her up spinning them around. Her head tossed back in a joyful laugh. He stopped and lowered her down, sliding her body over his. Her messy curls damp from exertion clung in ringlets to her face and neck. “I love you,” she whispered bringing her lips down to meet his. His lips were soft, warm, and tasted of whisky. The kiss warmed her to her core, setting her body on fire for him, only him.  She knew she never wanted to be anywhere else, with anyone else for the remainder of her life. James._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our two lovebirds are finally on their way after a very eventful beginning.  
> Things do not get easier for them during the flight as we will see in the next chapter.  
> Some of my real life leaked into this chapter. I have been studying to renew my Advanced Cardiac Life Support certification. All week I have been thinking about the medications used during resuscitation and charging and defibrillating the simulation characters. Now you know why there was an AED there.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/  
> Any questions, constructive thoughts, or suggestions are welcome.  
> Your comments are most welcome. I love to hear from you.


	4. The Flight - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. it is a multi chapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> It's a bit NSFW at the beginning, so if that is not acceptable to you, just skip it.  
> There is some mysticism toward the end. If you have questions about it, don't hesitate to ask.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

_The room was dark with only the light from the moon shining through the window bathing the lovers in a luminescent glow. The air was still, hot, and humid. A ceiling fan lazily turned, offering little in the way of respite from the heat. The lovers were writhing in the act of love. Their bodies shone and glistened from their labors. Neither sought the frenzied movement of the lust-crazed. Instead, their lovemaking was gentle, tender, not born out of lust but from the need to join, to worship, to love and be loved. Their body movements were slow and sinuous, moving in tandem one with the other. Each caress became a benediction. They were two souls seeking communion._

_Words of approbation, love, tenderness whispered so softly as to be barely heard. A throaty sigh came from the woman to be quickly swallowed by the lips of her lover._

_The world did not exist outside the lovers’ room. They had all the time in the world. In this world or in any other. Time, space, dimension had no meaning. Only they existed. Here. Now._

_“_ _Tha gaol agam ort my Sassenach,” he said stroking her cheek. He buried his nose into the tousled brown curly hair. It was freshly washed, scented with flowers and herbs. It smelled of her._

_His arousal hardening even more just with the mere smell and thought of her._

_“I love you too,” her hands wandered over his back needing to touch him everywhere, needing to draw him closer._

_“Come find me, my love. Find my heart. Find my soul. They’re yours,” she said breathily._

_“Oh God, I……”_

“Dr. Fraser, Dr. Fraser,” called an unfamiliar female voice.

 "Dr. Fraser.“ A firm masculine hand gripped James’ shoulder giving him a little shake.

James woke with a sudden start,  disoriented to where he was. There were bright lights, cushioned seats and two people dressed in uniforms standing next to him. He ran his fingers through his hair and scrubbed at his face.

 "Yes, can I help you…” James read the man’s badge, “Captain Ross?”

 "Frankly, Dr. Fraser, I was checking on you.  Flight Attendant Mary told me you had a rough beginning to your flight and I just wanted to make sure you were feeling better. It wouldn’t do to have one of our notable heart surgeons have an emergency on our flight, “ He laughed.

 "Thank you, Captain Ross and Attendant Mary for your concern.  I can assure you both that I am quite well." 

_He would have been a hell of a lot better if they let him finish his dream._

"Well, Dr. Fraser should you require anything, please do not hesitate to let me or the crew know. Good flight, Dr. Fraser.”  The men shook hands, Mary gave a brief nod and the crew departed.

James quickly closed his eyes hoping that he could return to his dream. He squirmed and twisted trying to find the perfect spot to return to sleep.  No such luck.

 His mind kept returning to the dream of the lovers.  _Who was that woman?_  He thought he should know her. Why had he called her  _Sassenach_? He gave it up as he had no answers or none that he could reason out.

Perhaps if he read. Reading sometimes lulled him to sleep. Pulling a particularly boring medical journal from his messenger bag, he began to read. After ten minutes, he found he was still reading the first paragraph and what’s more he had no idea of what he had read. The woman haunted him.

 James ran his fingers through his curly auburn locks, scrubbing at his neck a sure sign of frustration and closed the journal.

  _He kens this woman.  He’s seen her before; well whatever he could see of her._

 James closed his eyes and tried to envision the woman again. She was glorious. She was thin, lithe, with a mass of dark curly hair that fanned out like a halo about her on the pillow. It became tangled as they loved. Her eyes shone brightly with love. Her eyes, there was something about them. Honey-colored he thought. She was otherwise featureless from the darkness of the room. There was something about her voice that sounded so famil… No, it canna be.

His gaze drifted to his partner’s face who was peacefully asleep.   His jaw slackened with sudden comprehension. There she was, the woman in his dream. She with pearlescent skin, a magnificent mane of unruly brown hair, honey colored eyes, pink blush to her cheeks, slightly parted lips the color of cherries asking to be kissed, she was the woman.  _Beauchamp_.

It was both indecent and arousing to think he knew what she felt like under him. Ah Dhia, what it felt like to be inside her! James squirmed uncomfortably at the memory not because it was unpleasant. In fact, it was just the opposite.

The problem for James was that he always knew he loved her. From the moment he met her, he was drawn to her. Her smile, her laugh, and those whisky eyes shining brightly. That plump arse he so longed to get his hands on, the sway of her hips as she walked in her scrubs called to him like a siren’s song leaving him forever lost in her wake.

 “I’m a dead man,” he muttered as he shook his head in resignation.

Yes, he loved her; he always did. The problem was he did not have the courage to admit to himself or act on it for he was a coward and an insecure one to boot. Until now. He had always been afraid if he did, he would lose her. He was afraid she would find he was lacking somehow. She would bolt running away like a horse from a stable that was on fire and never look back. Not only would he lose the love of his life, but his friend.

The time had come to confront his fears. She was worth the risk. She was worth everything. But how?

James sat in contemplation considering this question, this puzzle that was called Beauchamp.

Christ, he was annoyed at himself. Never an indecisive man, he was a man of action. He commanded the operating room with his leadership, total efficiency, total control. But now, confronting his feelings for Beauchamp, he felt like he was a gangly, tongue-tied, spotty-faced teenage boy smitten with the prom queen. James groaned with the thought.

 Honesty. That was the key to this situation.  He would approach her gently to see how she feels first. Don’t scare her. Be tactful.

  _Laddie, she has been hurt._

 This made him angry, very angry indeed. A fist began to flex: opening, closing.  Without warning, James felt a need to hit something. Better yet, he had a need to hit the someone who had hurt her and hit him hard. He wanted to hear nasal cartilage crunch under his fist, feel the gush of warm red blood on his hand. And then James would hit him again, and again, and again. Aye, that would make him feel better. Her honor preserved. If James ever found the bastard, he would be lucky if he just walked away with a broken nose.

 James remained lost in his thoughts considering what he finally came to accept.

 Bump. Just a bit of… Bump **,** **bump** **.** The jet began to shake violently.

 Claire woke with a start, looking wildly around for the source of the disturbance, “Wot’s happening?”

The intercom crackled and the Captain announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, this is Captain Ross speaking. We are approaching Logan Airport in Boston.  There is a blizzard in progress affecting the airport and jets landing. The blizzard is causing a significant amount of turbulence. Please keep your seat upright, your seat belt fastened and follow any instructions given by the crew members. I will inform you of any additional information as I learn of it. Thank you.”

Claire turned to look at James.  James smiled at her and took her hand. Their eyes met. Golden whisky met cerulean blue. The pupils of his eyes dilated, widening becoming a vast black tunnel rimmed by the blue of his iris.

Claire uttered a soft “Oh!” and was gone. She fell into an inky black tunnel, tumbling, free-falling with nothing to grab onto for purchase.  Lightly, she landed at the bottom and found James waiting for her. He stood proud, stance open, head held high. A red light centered in his chest began to surround him, engulf him. It was vibrating, thrumming, he was a living flame, the embodiment of a living heartbeat.   _Seumas Ruadh_. She became conscious that her heartbeat had synced to his.

His arms opened wide to take her into his embrace. Claire stepped into his waiting arms without hesitation, knowing she would be consumed by his fire but not burned. In doing so, she found him, his essence, his soul and knew he belonged to her. His arms sheltered her in a warm cocoon of strength, security, and most of all love. Never in her life had she ever felt so safe, so wanted, so loved as she did now.

James likewise gazed into the fathomless reaches of her golden eyes. What he found both frightened and thrilled him. What he found was Claire. Raw, naked before him. A woman who is so complex in nature that it would take a lifetime to know her.

She has known great sorrow, pain, and loneliness. Yet at her core, she was a bright beacon blazing with love, love for him. Claire began to glow, emitting all the colors of the spectrum. The mass of colors subsided allowing a solitary violet light so clear, so pure to center in her chest radiating out enveloping the space in which they stood.  _Red and blue combined. Yin and Yang. Him and Her._  The brightness of her being, her love shone so brightly as to blind him, but it didn’t.  _Sorcha._  Claire’s arms opened wide beckoning him to her. He stepped into her light was healed in her embrace, and was alone no more.

 They blinked and the connection was severed.

Claire and James stared at each other trying to make sense out of what just happened. Mouths moved but made no sound. A look of shared startlement was on their faces.

The jet began to rock and shake.  Cups, books and other unsecured items fell to the floor or ricochet around the cabin. Some of the other passengers began to cry or to pray.

James knew Claire had a morbid fear of turbulence.

James’ eyes never left Claire’s.  He intertwined their fingers creating a link between them.

“Mo ghràdh, look at me,” James gently urged, “and dinna look away, aye?” He raised her hand to his lips and gently kissed each finger.

“Mo chridhe, have I ever told ye the story of the water horse’s wife? I dinna think so. Weel, I think this is as good a time as any. There is a spot at the eastern end of Loch Garve that never freezes, nae matter how cold ‘tis. The water there remains black and liquid even when the rest of the loch is frozen solid! That’s because that is the place of the water horse’s chimney.”

James went on to tell the story of the water horse and his human wife. The story told how the water horse tricked a man into building the chimney to keep the water horse’s wife warm, and so she could fry fish to eat. His eyes never wavered from hers. He held a tight grip on her hand feeling the bite of her nails into his skin whenever the jet dipped or shuddered. He never flinched or moved his hand.

Claire remained intent on his face and his words. They were her lifeline. Despite the surrounding chaos, she felt safe. She was soothed and comforted by his presence and voice. It would be alright she was sure.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain.  We have been given the go-ahead to land at Logan Airfield. We will be the last jet allowed to land today due to present weather conditions which are expected to deteriorate as the day goes on. A runway has been prepared for us. Please remain in your seat with your seat belt on.  It will be a bumpy ride. Thank you.”

Claire sat in her seat with a grim expression on her face, lips white in a tight line. James maintained his grip on her hand squeezing so hard that he thought he felt the bones grind together. He softly uttered a Gaelic prayer, “Lord that she may be safe today and every day, here and everywhere.”

James crossed himself, giving his soul over to God and felt the jet begin its descent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> For some strange reason known only to AO3, I can't upload the mood board to go with the story. If you want to see it please go to my Tumblr blog.
> 
> I broke with writer DG's blue aura for Claire. The reason being in all my research on the topic, healers have a violet aura, not a blue one. I know that the blue one worked out better in the story allowing Master Raymond to call Claire Madonna, but I think it should have been violet. My opinion such as it is. Jamie's red aura is consistent with canon and my own research. 
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/  
> Any questions, constructive thoughts, or suggestions are welcome.
> 
> Your comments are most welcome. I love to hear from you.


	5. The Hotel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. It is a multi chapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.  
> We finally made it to Boston. Yay! But things still don't go the way it is expected it to.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

The jet was pelted with ice crystals and blinding snow. The ice made pinging and clunking sounds as it struck the fuselage of the jet. Claire looked out the window trying to see any recognizable landmark as they approached Boston. It was impossible to see anything through the window at this point because of the snow and ice. High winds were buffeting the jet around as if it was a toy in the hands of a malevolent child tossing it around whilst making screeching, whistling, and booming sounds akin to a plane crashing.

_Claire thought that if she ever had a child, she would never allow the child to play with a plane after this experience._

Her nerves were on edge. Claire began to chew her bottom lip, a nervous habit she did whenever she was worried. The jet made a sudden lurch and precipitously dropped. One hand grasped onto the armrest tightly making her knuckles turn white whilst the other hand sought out James.

James was doing his best to keep an outward appearance of calm. Claire knew this was strictly for her benefit. However, Claire could see that faint line forming in the space right between his eyebrows. That wrinkle showed up whenever James concentrated or when a situation became too intense.  She had become familiar this line from their work together in the operating room. It forms every time they reached a critical point during heart surgery.

James realized  Claire was watching him, and had noticed his telltale sign of concern written all over  his face. He carefully schooled his features effectively hiding his worry.

"Dinna fash, Beauchamp, it will be alright." he said with a genuine smile as he grasped her hand tightly.

"I'm glad you think so," Claire snarked with a hint of doubt in her voice.

 _ **Shudder, shake, vibrate.**_  It felt like the jet was coming apart at the seams.

"James!" Claire exclaimed; her eyes wide with fright.

James saw how frightened Claire was. He continued holding her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand in small comforting circles. He continued engaging her with story after story trying to focus her attention on something other than the chaos that was happening around them.

"James?" Claire asked looking up into his face earnestly.

"What is it Beauchamp?"

"James," Claire whispered. "In case the plane does, well you know, I ah, I... I just wanted you to know that, that, I love you."  The last three words were barely audible. Her golden whisky eyes sparkled with love for him. Claire put her head on his shoulder and said no more.

James heard her soft admission of love. To him, it was loud. It was louder than the racket an entire herd of trumpeting stampeding elephants could make trampling over the earth destroying everything in their wake.

_She loves me, **she loves me!**  Weel, better late than never, he reckoned.  At least he finally knew after all this time._

"I love ye too, Claire." A broad smile graced his beautiful face.  He placed his head on top of hers contented.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your Captain. We are in descent to Logan. I have been told that the ground crew is working diligently to keep to the runway clear of ice, snow, and slush. Stay in your seats, keep your seat belts on and be ready for a bumpy ride. We will be landing shortly."

With her admission of love, the fear Claire felt disappeared leaving behind a feeling of tranquility. The feeling expanded when he confessed his own love for her. She knew everything would be alright, and if not, at least they were together like her parents were.

The landing gear engaged. The jet touched down with a bounce and a wobble. As predicted, the landing was very bumpy even on the longer runway necessary for this type of landing. At times, it almost felt like they were going to crash into the airport itself. Finally, the jet rolled to a halt. The passengers released a collective sigh of relief as the nightmare was finally over.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have arrived at Logan Airport in Boston. We hope you enjoyed your flight. I need a stiff drink and a change of underwear. I am sure you all do too. Let’s all get cleaned up and I'll meet you in the bar. That is all."

The passengers all cheered for their Captain and agreed that a drink was definitely in order.

"Come on, Claire. Let's get out of here before we canna. We need to find a taxi, or we will be stuck in the airport all the night. We can have a drink when we get settled at the hotel," James said lifting his eyebrows at her. Claire nodded in agreement.

As they stood, each craned their necks looking for Harry and Maizie, concern for the elderly couple etched on their faces. Harry, now with his hat askew and Maizie with her hair jutting out much like a porcupine were otherwise none the worse for wear. Both James and Claire, in turn, surreptitiously waved good-bye to the older couple relieved that they appeared to be alright.

James and Claire collected their belongings as quickly as possible and deplaned without a moment's hesitation.

****************

A genial gentleman dressed in chauffeur attire was waiting at the arrival gate for them. He was carrying a portfolio of some type to which he was frequently referring.

He stepped forward asking in a polished Bostonian accent, "Dr. Beauchamp, Dr. Fraser?"

"Aye, we are Doctors Beauchamp and Fraser. Might I ask who ye are?"

"I am Padrick Donoghue, your chauffeur from the Georges X hotel. I was concerned that your flight might have been diverted due to the storm.  I am relieved that was not the case.  May I assist you with your luggage doctors? If you will follow me your car awaits."

James and Claire looked at each other.  This was not normal. Not at all. Georges X is a five-star  hotel known for its,  _ahem_ , discretion.  And very expensive.  Not the usual accommodations for physicians on a conference. Who made these reservations and was it really for them? But tonight, well tonight any port in a storm would do.

A luxury Lexus SUV was awaiting James and Claire.

Padrick entertained them with stories of Boston and what they could do with any spare time.

"Padrick, I am very familiar with the area.  I went to Harvard Medical School and did my residency here. Unfortunately, Dr. Fraser and I need to return to Scotland as soon as the conference is over. It is lovely to remember all the places I enjoyed going to whilst living here."

"Well, it's a home coming for you then Dr. Beauchamp."

"You could say so."

Claire’s mind drifted away from Padrick's idle chatter.  All she could think about was a hot bath and sleep. It had been a long, strange day.

*************

The drive to the hotel was a short distance from the airport and upon arrival Claire and James entered the grand lobby.  The lobby was tastefully done in contemporary furnishings of black, grey, camel, and white.  A welcoming fire was blazing in the lobby fireplace. A beautiful ornate glass elevator, the centerpiece of the lobby, would whisk guests away to their rooms.

"I'll check us in Beauchamp. Why don't ye make yerself comfortable while I take care of it?"

Claire walked over to examine the violet phalaenopsis orchids that decorated the lobby, when she suddenly heard James' voice raised in agitation. He was leaning over the desk, coming eye-to-eye with the clerk. This was not good. Claire came over to see what was wrong. What she found was her normally good-natured partner turning a brilliant shade of red. He was speaking through clenched teeth with his eyes narrowed menacingly.

"Fraser, what's happened?" Claire queried.

James grabbed Claire by the upper arm and pulled her away from the desk.

"Beauchamp, there has been a mix-up. We are listed as doctors Beauchamp and Fraser, a husband and wife surgical team. There is only one room for us to share. And because of the storm, there isna another room available here or anywhere."

He was quite distressed at this. Truthfully, so was Claire. The prospect of sharing a room with James, while not an unpleasant idea, was not in her plans.  Right now all Claire wanted to do was get some sleep.

“Beauchamp, there is only one bed.  There are nay cots available.  There is nay couch in the room. This is different situation altogether and ye ken it. This is no’ going to work,” he replied angrily.

“Fraser, it will be alright.  We have shared the on-call room many nights while we were working. We can share a room tonight. Tomorrow we can see about making other arrangements.”

“Are ye daft woman?! What if one of your colleagues or friends from Boston sees ye here going into a room with a man that is no’ yer husband? What will they think?” James’ eyes narrowed to blue slits. He slowly turned his head, surveying the lobby for any possibility of a threat, real or imagined, to Claire’s virtue. Satisfied that no one was going to jump out and spray paint a scarlet letter  ** _A_** on Claire’s bosom, James returned his gaze to Claire.

James began to ruffle his fingers through his hair making it stand up on end, “Christ, Beauchamp, think of yer reputation woman! I’ll not have people thinking ye a wanton. I’ll nae risk it!” James was visibly distressed and hellbent on protecting Claire’s reputation and honor. He continued mumbling in Gàidhlig about tainting her reputation as a woman.

Claire gaped at him in shock.

“James,” she said very quietly through her teeth, “first of all, how would anyone know you are not my husband, hmm? Secondly, this is not the 18th century, for god’s sake; it’s the 21st century! No one will think anything of it. Besides, look,” she pointed to the desk where there was a sign that said,  _ **The Essence of Discretion**_. Perhaps the hotel was a trysting place for the rich and famous.

“I wouldn’t worry.”

“Aye, weel I dinna like it anyway. I’ll sleep down here, if ye dinna mind.”

“James,” Claire’s yellow tiger’s eyes narrowed glinting dangerously, “I am tired. In fact, I am exhausted. We had a horrible flight. We almost died. I want to take a bath, perhaps have a drink, and go to sleep, in that order.  **And**  I am not leaving you down here. Get your bag and get a move on.  **NOW**.”

Claire turned on her heel, grabbed her suitcase, took the card key from the clerk, and marched toward the elevator.

“ **MOVE IT, Fraser,** ” she said without so much as a glance over her shoulder to see if he was following her.

James knew she was not to be trifled with. He had seen her in this type of mood before when a cardiac surgery fellow made a mistake whilst taking care of one of her patients.  Claire had swallowed the fellow whole, spit out his bones, and used them to pick her teeth. Claire could be formidable when necessary. She was a true force of nature like a hurricane or an earthquake. James loved her like that. This was not a meek and obedient woman. Claire was a true match for him; if she would let him get a word in edgewise.

He quickly grabbed his bag and followed behind her. He had another bit of bad news still to deliver.

While standing in the elevator, James cleared his throat and place his hands protectively over his bollocks.

“Umm, Beauchamp?”

“Yes, Fraser, what is it?” Claire asked tiredly.

“I have another thing to tell ye.”

“Yes?”

“Theycancelledtheconference.” James told her all in one breath. “The speakers couldna make it in from Texas because of the storm.”  He stood there waiting for the fallout.

Claire looked at him her lips twitching somewhere between exasperation and hysterics. Her eyes glazed over and she began to laugh hysterically.

“Could this trip get any worse?”

James was relieved that Claire was not going to have a melt down on the elevator.

“Weel, Beauchamp, let’s look at this way.  We could do with a bit a vacation, do ye no think? The clerk said that everything is all paid for. So maybe we should just try to enjoy it. Maybe ye could show me around Boston, hmm? My own personal tour guide” he said trying to wink at Claire. Instead, he looked like a large red sleepy owl blinking its eyes.

“We’ll see Fraser, we’ll see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Our lovebirds have finally admitted to each other that they love one another. Now what do they do as there is only one bed available? We shall see what happens. This is a slow burn folks, I warned you.
> 
> I still can't get the mood board to post here. If you would like to see it go to my tumblr blog.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> Any constructive suggestions or comments are appreciated.
> 
> I love reading your comments. If you have any questions don't hesitate to ask.


	6. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. It is a multi chapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like ask that starting from hopefully, next week, you all start to pay attention to the tags as they will change. A new long term character will arrive and older characters will appear. It will or should change from Mature to Explicit. So be on the look out.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Jmoonrise and MClairefras for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you.

James took the key card from Claire and opened the door allowing her to enter.

The room was beautiful. It was decorated tastefully in creams, taupe, and espresso. The wide expansive window would have provided a breathtaking view of the Boston skyline if it were not for the blizzard raging outside.

There was a gas fireplace providing a warm and welcoming glow in the room.  To the far side of the room was a workspace with a desk, chair, and a lamp was available. There was a well stocked  bar in the room with premium liquor. A bottle of Dom Pérignon champagne sat chilling in a bucket of ice. By the window was a highly polished cherry wood table with two barrel-backed chairs that were deeply tufted and thickly cushioned in buttery leather which could be used as seating for dining.

A bowl of red ripe juicy strawberries, some plain others enrobed in chocolate, sat on the table waiting to be nibbled. The hotel’s trademark violet orchids sat on each of the bedside tables. The bed was a huge modern four-poster king-size bed that was the focal point of the room.  It was a delicious confection dressed in crisp white Egyptian linen that felt silky to the touch. Topping the bed were two cream colored cashmere throws with GX emblazoned in the center. The throws were luxurious, so soft and light. Claire ran a hand over a throw, and she thought it felt like she was touching a cloud. The room was the height of luxury.

Claire looked longingly at the bed and thought that she could sleep on the bed forever.

James removed his overcoat and jacket, took Claire’s overcoat as well and hung them in the closet. He headed straight to the bar and found a bottle of Glenfiddich single malt whisky and poured himself a generous dram, downing it in one swallow. He poured himself a second dram and one for Claire handing her the cut crystal glass.

“To us, sláinte,” James said raising his glass to Claire.

Claire raised her glass to him in salute, “Sláinte.”

Claire sipped at her whisky savoring the flavor and the burn. It warmed her through.

She was more than aware that he was tracking her every move in the room.

Finally, James spoke softly and tenderly, “Claire, we needta talk.”

“I know,” she whispered.

Claire bowed her head in contemplation, studying the depths of the glass she held as if it possessed all the answers to all the mysteries of the world.

She took off her knee-high boots, sat down on the bed patting the other side indicating that James should come and sit next to her.

“Oh, and bring the whisky. I think we’ll need some liquid courage for this conversation.”

“Aye, I think ye’re right,” James nodded in agreement.

James removed his shoes, took off his tie and opened the collar button. Claire could see James’ red gold chest hair peeking out from under his shirt. He handed Claire the bottle of whisky then made himself comfortable next to her.

They sat there sipping their drink in companionable silence for what could have been seconds, minutes, or hours each lost in their own thoughts.

Eventually, James turned to look at Claire and broke the silence between them.   

“Claire, I need the truth. When ye said ye loved me on the plane, did ye mean it or, or did ye only say it because ye thought we would die?

“It’s the truth you want is it, Fraser?” she asked raising one eyebrow giving him a hard look.

James grinned, “Claire, don’t ye think ‘tis time ye call me Jamie?”

Claire chuckled, “Considering the position we find ourselves in, I guess you’re right... Jamie.”

“It’s the truth you want, Jamie?” Claire asked questionly.

Jamie nodded his head.

“Then it’s the truth you shall have. Both. It was the fear that we would die that gave me the courage to finally admit my feelings to myself and to you. I did not want to die without telling you how I felt about you.” Claire raised her glass and took a long sip of the whisky.

“How long Claire, how long did ye ken it?” His demeanor was serious. He needed to know.

“Since we met, well not long after we met really.” Claire kept her gaze averted from him. She could not face him. Her face began to flush from shame from her lack of honesty with him.

Jamie got up and began to pace in the room in frustration. “All this time Claire and ye didna have the nerve to tell me! Look at all the time we lost. Did ye think me a brute maybe because of my size that maybe ye were afraid of me?”

Claire looked shocked at this.  She rose from the bed and came to him, “Oh no, Jamie not at all! I think you’re the best man ever. That’s why I never said anything. I come with too much baggage. Why would a man like you want someone like me? Everyone in my life leaves me or betrays me. Why would you want someone  no one else wants?”

Claire walked over to the window and stared out onto the frozen landscape. A single tear ran down the side of her face.

Jamie stopped in his tracks. He stood stock still staring at her in utter disbelief.

“Not want ye, not want ye!?”  He was thunderstruck at her assertion.

Two of Jamie’s fingers began to beat a restless tattoo against his leg.

“God Claire, I have wanted ye since the moment I laid eyes on ye, did ye ken that?” He closed the distance between them in three strides. He placed his arms around her waist, dropping his chin onto her shoulder.   

“But, do ye ken when I knew that I loved ye? It happened not long after that. Do ye remember the night that we lost wee Adelaide MacGregor ‘cause we couldna get a heart to transplant for her?”

Claire turned to face Jamie and nodded in assent.

“That night as I held ye in my arms when ye cried, I kent that I loved ye. I kent I would be yers forever, whether ye wanted me or no’. How could ye think I’d no’ want ye? Ye’re bright, intelligent, kind, tenderhearted, and sae, sae beautiful. Of course, I would want ye! Any man in his right mind would.”

“Not every man would,” Claire said bitterly.

He was scrubbing his hand over the back of his neck as he  paced around the room again. He was growing more distressed with each passing second. _“_

_She has been hurt laddie, be gentle with her.”_

Jamie took a deep steadying breath, turned and returned to Claire’s side. He pulled her into his embrace wrapping his arms tightly around her. Jamie made a small noise almost like a sob.

“I’ll ask yer forgiveness, Claire. I shouldna have spoken to ye so harshly. I dinna have the courage to admit it to myself either. I dinna think ye would want a man such as me.”

He let go of her, took two steps back, his head lowered to his chest.

“I carry around baggage too, Claire. I thought if ye kent about me, ye wouldna want me.”

Claire was quite taken aback by his statement. What kind of baggage could this beautiful man be carrying around that would make him think he is _unlovable_ she wondered?

Jamie strode over to the fireplace and stared into the flames. Claire came to him resting her face against his chest and wrapped her arms around him.

“I’m here for you, Jamie. You’re not alone..” Claire placed a small chaste kiss on the side of his neck.

“Thank ye, Claire.” He broke the embrace, turned to face her and kissed her on the forehead. “As I am for ye.”

“Jamie, obviously we both have pasts that we have issues with. I think that in order to give whatever this is between us a chance, we need to be open and honest with each other. Don’t you agree?”

“Aye, Claire, I do. I dinna want to push ye to tell me anything ye feel ye canna but we need to have a truth between us.  We can have secrets but no lies. Now, who shall go first ye or me? We need to remember that a burden shared is a burden carried.”

“I’ll go first.” Claire refilled her glass with whisky, took a fortifying drink, and began.

“My father had his own jet that he used for business.  My mother and I often accompanied him wherever he needed to travel for business. One day in late October we were returning home to London. A great storm suddenly rose up around us. The sky was ablaze with lightning and the air was filled with the crash of thunder all around us. There was a reek of ozone about us.  A blinding downpour began to pound the plane. The turbulence caused the plane to begin to shake and rock. I was so frightened. I remember whimpering and clinging to my mother.”

“Despite trying everything he could, Papa lost control over the jet. My father radioed the tower that he had lost instruments, control of the jet, and gave our location. He held me, kissed me, and told me he loved me. Then my mother cuddled me into her body using her body to protect me from injury. She told me to always remember them and to know they would always be with me wherever I was. The jet crashed and I survived while my parents died. I was only five years old.”

James was visibly moved by her story. Tears rimmed his eyes. He reached out grasped Claire’s small hands in his larger ones and placed them over his heart hoping that the steady beat would soothe her. Tenderly, he placed a kiss on her forehead.   _Now I ken why she is afraid of turbulence._

“I am sae, sae sorry, Claire. I didna ken.”

Claire leaned into his chest drawing strength from his solid presence, nodded her head and continued her story.

“My Uncle Lambert, Lamb as I called him, became my legal guardian. We traveled the world together.  He was an eminent archeologist. My life was quite unconventional. Going from one dig to another in different parts of the world. In the evenings, I was tutored by Lamb. I didn’t really have friends growing up. Childhood was quite different for me than what most children experience. I don’t regret it, but there were times I wished for a normal life like everyone else.” Claire shrugged at that thought.

“Eventually, Lamb settled in Oxford to teach.  There he met a young doctoral student studying history.  His dissertation was on the ‘45 Rebellion. Frank Randall is his name. They became friends and eventually, Frank courted me.  I was all of 19 at the time. Frank was 10 years my senior. He was rather dashing and handsome. Lamb approved of him. So when Frank asked me to marry him, I did. That was a mistake. Frank did not love me. He used me to further his career through his association with Lamb. Frank had a mistress all while he courted me. He was with her even on our wedding night before he came to me.”

Claire stopped in the telling of the story, took a deep breath to compose herself then continued in a halting voice.

“I found out about his mistresses, there were more than one by the way, by accident. Frank kept a locked box that he said contained important research documents. One day I was reaching for something in the closet, it fell and opened. In it were love letters from all of  his mistresses.”

Tears began to run down Claire’s face, hot and heavy. Claire turned her head away from Jamie as if to hide her shame. Instead, Jamie pulled her tightly to him, cradling her against his chest. He cupped her cheeks lifting her face up toward him.  His thumbs gently wiped away her tears. “Dinna hide yer face mo ghràdh, ye have nothing to be ashamed of. He does.”

Claire’s eyes glistened with tears; she nodded wondering what she did to deserve to be in the arms of a man such as Jamie.

“I read them. When I confronted him with the evidence, he laughed at me. He admitted the whole thing. He told me he never loved me and all I was good for was a good fuck. I slapped him, grabbed my purse, and went to see Lamb. Naturally, I told Lamb what happened.  Lamb became despondent. He felt responsible as he encouraged the match. He refused to eat, slept poorly, and would not take his blood pressure medication. Lamb died of a stroke three months later. Of course, I divorced Frank. And then I was truly alone.”

Tears streamed down Claire’s face. Large, hot, angry tears. She sobbed and clung to Jamie, shaking with the remembered pain and humiliation.

Jamie hugged her fiercely to his chest, running his hand soothingly over her back. “Hush a nighean, hush.  I’m here.” Jamie uttered words in Gàidhlig which sounded nonsensical to Claire, but the words and his voice calmed her. As Claire began to still he placed two fingers under her chin raising her face to him and kissed away her tears.

“Claire, where is yon man, yer ex-husband, now?” Jamie spoke to her tenderly all while he was seething with fury. His eyes darkened becoming narrow slits.  His hand opened and closed with the want to lash out, strike out at this poor excuse for a man and beat him within an inch of his life for what he did to her.

“I think he teaches here in Boston. Why?”

“If he ever has the misfortune of crossing my path, I shall beat him into a pudding.” He smiled with pleasure at the thought. He would avenge her.

“Dinna waste your tears, a leannan. He is not worthy of ye or yer tears. The man is a fool. I love ye and I always will.” He cuddled her close rocking her gently. He raised her face up and kissed her tenderly on the lips. When their lips parted, Jamie gave her a shy smile; his lip curling on one side.

Claire’s eyes opened wide in shock; her hand going to her lips. Her lips tingled from his kiss and she felt a rush of blood through her body warming her. Claire realized that she had never experienced such closeness, warmth, tenderness, and safety as she did now while Jamie was holding her close to him. There was a sense of peace that washed over her. In Jamie’s arms, she was totally accepted for who she was.  She found love in his arms.

“I’m sorry Claire if I was too forward. I dinna mean to… Ye seemed so upset. I just meant to offer ye some comfort.” Jamie said apologetically.

Claire looked into his clear blue eyes, reached up, grasping him by the nape of his neck, and brought his head down to hers. She soundly kissed him back. His lips were soft, tasting of whisky, and from the salt of her tears. It was everything she imagined it would be.

“That’s what you call being forward, Fraser.”

Jamie was completely nonplussed by her kiss and was rather flustered. “Where did ye learn to kiss like that, Claire?”

“I am not a nun, Fraser. I have kissed a few men and maybe an occasional frog in my life.”

Jamie was not sure how he felt after that.  He wanted to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder, put her on the bed, and take her. He stepped back, chest heaving, and with great effort collected himself.

Claire shyly smiled at Jamie, “I do believe it’s your turn now to tell your story.”

Claire sat by his side, taking his hand in hers as an offer of support waiting for him to begin.

“Some of my story is similar to yers.  My mam was a visiting nurse, ye ken. She was going on a home visit to a new young mother and her bairn.  The mother was no more than 18. My brother Willie needed to drive into Broch Morda to pick up some supplies my Da had ordered for the farm. So, Willie drove my Mam to her appointments that day.  It was September and the beginning of the rutting season for the red deer. As Willie was driving along two huge stags ran out onto the road directly in front of the car. Willie swerved trying to avoid them but struck one of the stags.  The car went off the road and into a ditch. Willie died instantly, while my Mam hung on for a week in a coma. She died eight days after the accident. I was fifteen at the time.”

Claire could feel the tremors running through Jamie’s body as he told her the story. She pulled him closer to her, gave his hand a squeeze letting him know she was there and as encouragement.

Jamie took a deep shuddering sigh and continued.

“Much like yer Uncle Lamb, my Da was overcome with grief from the two losses. He was no’ himself after their deaths.  The following year, when I was 16, a group of lads and I were swimming in the pond by the gristmill. We were naked as jays,” he said with a smirk.

“The lads were roughhousing around, pushing and shoving. Someone pushed my friend Ian and he fell into the pond too close to the water wheel.  He got caught by the water wheel at the leg and was about to be dragged under. I heard Ian screaming and hollering. So, I jumped in after him and managed to free him. His leg was badly mangled. There was blood everywhere. I was trying to get out of the water but I lost my balance, and I was taken under. The water wheel paddles tore the skin from my back. The water was turning red from my blood too. Ian and I were rushed to the hospital. Ian lost his leg below the knee.  I spent a long time in intensive care having surgery to close my back. Grafts had to be placed ye ken.”

Jamie let out a heavy sigh sounding like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“It was all too much for my Da after my Mam and Willie. Then I went and got injured, his now only son.  When he came to the hospital and saw me, I was told he made a small sound, grabbed at his chest, and fell. He suffered a heart attack and died. To this day, I feel responsible for his death.”

Jamie whispered, “Claire, I killed my Da.”

He turned his head buried his face into Claire’s neck and sobbed like he was a child fresh with the grief from the loss of a parent and from years of repressed guilt.

Claire held him close, rubbing his back, uttering tender words that one would say to soothe a child.

“My back is scarred, Claire. It is grotesque. I’m afraid ye would think me a monster if ye saw it.”

Claire looked at him with a smile on her lips that went to her eyes.

“I sincerely doubt it, Jamie.”

“Ye didna think ye would be disgusted or repulsed by it, Claire?”

“No Jamie, I most certainly don’t think so. Your beauty lies in your heart, in your soul. A marred back cannot change that. It cannot change what I feel for you.”

They sat there holding each other, taking solace from each other.

“Jamie, you mustn't blame yourself for your father’s death. You were very brave to jump in after your friend and save his life.  He would have died if not for you. I’m sure your father was very proud of his brave son.”

 “Do ye think so, Claire?”

 “Yes, I do. I think you were very brave, reckless maybe, but brave nonetheless.” She smiled. “Oh, Jamie how I do love you.”

Claire kissed him soundly on the mouth. They sat holding each other. Each giving comfort to the other and feeling safe with in each other’s arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I hopefully will have chapter 7 ready by next Sunday. It is long. It probably is the longest one I will write for this story. And it is important to me to do it right. I don't want to disappoint the readers or even J & C.
> 
> Please bear with me one more time, in case I am late with the chapter.
> 
> If you want to see the mood board, because I still can't post it, go to my tumblr blog. Sorry for the inconvenience.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> Any questions, constructive suggestions or comments are appreciated.  
> I love reading your comments and your thoughts so much.


	7. Will Ye Have Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good evening all! I am so happy this is finally done and I think this is the best version of it. I am rather pleased with it. As I said it is long. So I would suggestion getting some snacks, a glass of wine, a dram, or what ever is your preference.
> 
> As promised the Smut has arrived. Please, please, please this is very NSFW. Not kidding. If you find that Smut is not your thing, please don’t read it. 
> 
> There is a new character. She is important to the story at some point. If you want to see her, go to my blog on Tumblr as I probably will not get the picture posted here.
> 
> I want to thank my beta @curlsgetdemgurls for her help and input as well rewarding me with my 🔥🔥🔥🔥.
> 
> Thank you all for your support, coming by to read, leaving me your comments. You are all so fabulous. I am truly overwhelmed by it. Love to you all 😘😘😘.

Claire woke from a deep sleep disoriented. The light from the fireplace made a weak effort to chase the shadows from the room. Whatever light there was did little to alleviate her confusion. She scrubbed at her face and across her eyes as if this would help her regain her focus in the dimly lit room. Very slowly, her awareness began to reach her consciousness.  Squinting to read the digital clock on the bedside table it sleepily announced the time was 2:17 AM. That was a start. Now she knew what time it was. More importantly, she needed to know  _where_ she was.

With no answer forthcoming to where she was, she began to take stock of herself hoping that this might joggle her memory giving her the insight she needed. Her mouth felt dry and a gummy film coated her teeth.  She raked her hands through the knotted tangled mess that was her hair. God, even her hair hurt. Trying to shift herself into a sitting position she brushed her hand against something very heavy laying across her stomach. She leaned forward to have a closer look. There was a hand, a very large hand, lying across her abdomen. Claire froze. Her mouth opened in surprise. Her eyes wide taking in the sight in front of her.  Panic was creeping in through every part of her consciousness. _“Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ! What did I do? What happened yesterday?” she asked herself._   She was in bed with someone. But who? Her mind was foggy and her head throbbed.

Slowly, events came back to her.  There had been a plane trip that much she recalled. She remembered she was in Boston with…  _Jamie._  Oh, God! Jamie. This is his arm. Jamie nestled closer to Claire. His soft exhalations tickling her neck.

What did we do? Did we? She ran her hands along the planes of her body and was both relieved and disappointed to see that she had fallen asleep fully dressed.  Was she relieved because they didn’t or was she disappointed because they didn’t?

The whisky! Yes, they both did have quite a lot to drink last night. It all came back to her.  Each of them had shared the most painful, most secret parts of their lives with each other. It had been cleansing, a relief to be able to say those things long buried never to be thought of let alone spoken of. Claire was glad that the person she had shared those memories with was Jamie. He did not pass judgment on her. Rather, he had just accepted her and was compassionate. Most of all did not pity her.

A long sigh escaped her lips.  She hated to get up, but she needed to use the loo urgently. Getting some water to drink would also be heavenly. Her mouth felt like the Sahara.  Slowly she wiggled her way out from under Jamie’s grasp without waking him. Immediately, she regretted moving away from him feeling the loss of his heat. The man was a virtual furnace. More so, she missed the feeling of security that came from being in his embrace. She felt safe with his arm around her. A feeling she could definitely get used to.

Taking one of the cashmere throws, Claire wrapped it around herself. The throw was a very poor substitute for Jamie’s warmth.

Quietly she padded to the loo. The bathroom, too, was magnificent. It was done in white Italian marble with rich veins of gray. Thick luxurious towels and facial clothes were artistically displayed on a heated towel rack.  Two terrycloth robes awaited their use. Needless to say, the floors were heated. Violet orchids decorated the countertop.

After washing her hands, she quickly took stock of herself.  Her hair was a wild mass of curls, mascara rings under her eyes, her face blotchy from crying, and wrinkled from sleep. She looked quite a mess if she did say so herself.

After brushing her teeth and undressing, she entered the shower. The rainforest shower head was set to random giving a realistic feeling of showering in the rain. It was exhilarating yet at the same time tranquil and peaceful. The steam from the shower perfumed the room with the scent of flowers and herbs from the shampoo and soap she was using. As she lathered her skin her mind drifted to her sleeping friend. Her hands slick with soap and wet from the shower slid over the curves of her body.  What would it feel like to have Jamie touch her this way?  What would it be like to have those large skilled hands caress her skin, knead her breasts, feel his tongue swirl over her nipples? His hands, what if they drifted lower between her legs. What would it felt like? She began to shudder with the thought, with the need. Claire thought she could ride him all night long. She felt her color rise from her chest to her hairline.

 _“Oh get a grip Beauchamp, just do,” she scolded herself._   She rinsed herself off from head to toe, towel drying her hair.  Claire reached for her rose-colored silk nightgown slipping it on. Finally, Claire covered herself in one of the luxurious terry bathrobes. It was strange Claire thought, she did not remember packing this nightgown as it had thin straps, a floral lace bodice which swept around to the back.  Both the front and back of the nightgown plunged low.  It was completely inappropriate for a business trip.  She would have much preferred her cozy flannel pajamas instead.

Jamie was still asleep exactly where she had left him. Tiptoeing over to the fireplace she watched as the fluttering flames performed a mesmerizing dance.

Jamie woke and immediately missed Claire’s sleeping form next to him. The bed felt empty.   _He chuckled to himself, “Already used to her sleeping next to ye, are ye?”_  He turned to look for her and spied her sitting on the wee loveseat watching the flames. Slowly and quietly he rose and walked to her. “Ye couldna sleep, Claire?” Jamie asked in a voice husky from sleep.  He placed his hands on her shoulders, bent over and kissed her gently on the temple. Her skin was still warm and damp from the shower. “Hmm, ye smell nice.”

Taking one of his hands in hers, she brought it to her lips kissing his knuckles.

“I needed to use the loo. Unfortunately, I saw myself in the mirror and knew a shower was in order. I feel much better. Come sit with me, Jamie.” A taupe colored loveseat of buttery soft leather was situated in front of the fireplace.

He lifted up the front of his shirt giving himself a sniff. “Phew. No’ just yet. Next to ye, I smell like a distillery. Give me a few moments so I can clean up aye?” Jamie turned and walked toward the bathroom.

“How do you know what a distillery smells like?”

“We have a small distillery on our farm. I worked in it during the summers, making money so I could go to Uni.”

Claire chuckled, “Is there anything that you haven’t done, Jamie?”

He turned back to face her. With a serious look on his face, he declared, “I can think of several things that I havena done yet that I would verra much like to do, Claire, and they all involve ye.” Jamie strode purposefully into the bathroom.

Closing the door he leaned against it, head falling backward resting against it. He rolled his eyes up, shaking his head in disbelief. How did he come to say such a thing to her? Well, if nothing else, he was honest. He did want to do all manner of things to Claire.

The room was still warm and fragrant with the scent of her. It enveloped him, assaulting his senses. The room had the fecund scent of a garden. He pictured her standing in a garden lush with green things, herbs, and flowers. She was round and ripe with his child in her belly. He felt himself harden at the thought.

Shower.  **NOW**.

He stripped off and got into the shower.  The shower was a lite rain alternating with a downpour.  What he needed was a pounding shower. Something that would help him regain his senses. This shower just made him want Claire more. Jamie wanted her in there with him. He wanted her hair to be plastered to her head, her face. He imagined the water trickling down over her breasts making her nipples pucker ready for him to suckle. Jamie fantasized about the water trickling down over her body in rivulets; his hands feeling the slick wetness of her body. He wanted to get on his knees open her and taste her causing her to squirm and gasp under his ministrations.  After she reached her peak, he would slam her into the wall, like the beast that he was, and take her in one swift move. He would take her hard, take her fast. There could be no gentleness about how he would take her, plunging his cock into her soft flesh over and over.  The rain washing over them, between them increasing the slickness of their bodies. Oh, and the sweet sounds she would make for him. He couldn’t …he couldn’t …he couldn’t … OH, GOD CLAIRE!!!

“Jamie, are you alright in there? You’ve been in there for quite a while.”

He thought the Americans had a word for it, it’s called it getting _busted_. “Aye, Claire I’m fine. Just enjoying the shower too much.  Be right out.”

Jamie toweled dry, put on the second terry robe, and came out.  He was flushed from more than the heat of the shower. Actually, he was rather shamefaced. Thank God the only light in the room came from the fireplace. At least he was calmer, his pent-up lust having been relieved.

He walked over to the small refrigerator taking out two bottles of mineral water and went to sit next to Claire on the love seat.

Taking one look at the small loveseat he worried that it might not fit his large frame. If it did perhaps their combined weight would make the thing collapse.

_“Who made this thing,” he wondered to himself, “Munchkins?”_

Claire looked up at him expectantly.

“Weel, there’s nay help for it.” Jamie quietly muttered and sat down.

The love seat groaned under their combined weight but remained intact. It was a tight fit sitting next to each other with their thighs rubbing together from the limited space available.  He felt his cock begin to twitch again, simply from the nearness to Claire.

 _“Will ye no’ stay down, man!?”_ His cock twitched again in response to his admonition.

He opened one bottle of water, handed it to Claire then opened the second bottle for himself. Raising the bottle to his lips, he quickly drained it down in one long gulp.

“You seem very thirsty. Would you like mine too?”

“No thank ye lass, I am much restored,” he lied.

They sat there enjoying the peacefulness that surrounded them, each absorbed in his or her own thoughts.

Finally, Claire broke the silence. “Jamie,” she said as she turned to look at him, “What this is between us is different. I have never felt like this before.  I mean I don’t have a vast amount of experience with men, but I think this is unusual. Do you think so too?”

“Aye, lass. ‘Tis. I feel different somehow, happier.”  He looked at her and grinned. “I never felt like this before with a lass.”

Claire became quiet again, her lips drawn together in a tight line. “I need you to know that I am not good at sharing for reasons you are aware of.” Claire added hurriedly, “Before we go any further, I need to know if you are seeing any other women. I don’t want to be part of some harem of girlfriends. I couldn’t do it.” Claire bit her lip and nervously waited for his answer.

Jamie looked at her rather shocked. “Do ye think me a Casanova then?”

“There is no denying that you are a very handsome man.  I see how women react to you. For goodness’ sake, some outright ogle you. A man like you must have several girlfriends.  I really wouldn’t be surprised at all if you had a whole bevy of beauties lined up.” Claire’s breathing quickened all while her lip chewing becomes more exaggerated as her anxiety became more pronounced.

“Me?! Me?! Women ogle me? I have always thought myself rather grotesque and frightening to women, because of my size ye ken. Yer teasing me, lass,” Jamie narrow-eyed Claire in disbelief.

He really doesn’t see it! “No, I am not teasing you. Did you know that the nurses have a nickname for you?”

Jamie looked utterly bewildered. His brows drew together forming a line between them, “Go on with ye, they dinna. Do they? What do they call me?”

She looked at him narrowly, “The nurses call you Doctor McDreamy. You honestly didn’t know that?”

Jamie sat there with his mouth gaping. He rather looked like a goldfish with his mouth opening and closing soundlessly.

“And what about Laoghaire?” Claire asked in a carefully controlled tone.  “She is always following you around, visiting you in your office, and dressing in very sexy clothes for you.  Christ, the way she flaunts herself in front of you! Surely you have feelings for her?” Claire thought she sounded like a jealous old biddy, but she really couldn’t help it because the truth be told she was jealous.

“I dinna care about other women. For that matter, I dinna care about Laoghaire, never have and never will. She is naught but a lass in a woman’s body. I need a real woman. I need you. There is only ye, Claire, only ye,” Jamie said with a look of such sincerity on his face that there was only one thing left to could do.

She leaned in closing the distance between the two of them and kissed Jamie tenderly. She moved to deepen the kiss when Jamie took her by the arms and broke the kiss.

“Fair’s fair’s, lass, are ye seeing anyone?”

“Well, I do have a roommate.” Claire jumped up hurrying to get her phone. “I have a picture. I’ll show you.” A wide grin broke out across her face as she brought the phone over to where they were sitting.   She shuffled through the pictures searching for it.

“Tis nay bother, lass,” Jamie said with a thickness in his throat. He really did not want to see who her roommate was.   _All was lost, he thought.  This was her way of letting him down. How could he have been such a fool? A lass such as her must have many admirers._

Finding the picture she was looking for she thrust the phone into Jamie’s hand.

Jamie looked down at the phone, looked back at Claire, and looked back at the phone.

“It’s a wee doggie,” he said astounded. He looked at the picture in disbelief.

“Yes,” Claire said bursting with pride as she looked at the picture.

Jamie repeated himself, “It’s a dog.”

“Yes, it is. She is my best friend.” her enthusiasm about to bubble over. “Isn’t she just beautiful? My pretty girl. Her name is Ginger.” Claire took the phone back from Jamie cuddled it to her chest, cooing to the picture.

She began to prattle on about how she and the dog found each other, what they do, where they go for walkies, and on, and on, and on.

Jamie was not attending to what was being said. Instead, he focused on her.

She seems so proud of the beast almost as if it were her bairn. Her face was alight with love and devotion for the pup.  She belonged to the dog and the dog belonged to her.

At that moment that Jamie really understood Claire Beauchamp.  Claire orphaned at a young age, lived an unorthodox and nomadic life with her archaeologist Uncle. Claire traveled the world, had adventures, and lived in tents. She did not have parents who would sing lullabies or tell bedtime stories to her. She did not have a home, siblings, family, playmates, school, schoolmates, friends, or any of the other human attachments that Jamie had and for that matter, had taken for granted his whole life. Claire probably never had a pet before. Even in her disastrous marriage to that bastard Randall, Claire had been alone. It was understandable how Claire and her uncle had fallen prey to Randall’s machinations. They were simply no match for his guile.

Jamie’s heart broke for his friend. He swore she would never be alone again or without human attachment along as he was alive. He would always care for her, no matter how no matter where.  Jamie silently cried for his friend.

“Don’t you think so?” 

Jamie didn’t respond as he was lost in his thoughts.

"Are you alright?  You seem distracted.”

“Aye, I am. I was just doing a bit of woolgathering.” He hesitated but needed an answer, “Claire, what I need to know is are ye seeing anyone? Ye know romantically?”  

A blush rose up on her cheeks. “No, there has been no one since Frank. Well, I have gone out on a few dates occasionally, but there haven’t been any serious relationships. It was usually just for dinner and then that was it.  I wasn’t interested in forming relationships after Frank.  Actually, I was put off men. I simply didn’t trust them enough to get involved.”

“Now ye think ye are willing to open yer heart, Claire? Maybe for me?” Jamie asked hope blooming in his heart.  “I need ye to be sure lass of yer feelings as I canna go back to being just friends if we do this.  I want us to be more.”

“Yes, Jamie I am.  I want you. I want us, and I want this.” her eyes glistened, shining with love for him.

He took both her small fragile hands in his large ones placing them over his heart, “Claire, I want ye so much I can scarcely breathe.  Will ye have me?”

“Yes, Jamie, I’ll have you.”

Raising a hand cupping Jamie’s cheek, she smoothed away the lines of tension from his face.

Claire began to fumble with the knot of her robe. Jamie placed his hands over hers, stilling her hands.  He stood helping her to rise up as well.

“Let me do that, mo nighean donn. Let me unwrap ye like the gift ye are to me.”

She felt herself go weak in the knees.  _How does he know exactly the right words to say?_

Jamie’s eyes darkened with growing lust. He knew he needed to control his desires. This was about Claire. Her wants. Her needs. He was here to serve her in the way she deserved. To be adored, to be worshiped, to be pleasured.  Reaching for the robe’s ties he slowly pulled them apart allowing the robe to fall open exposing only the merest hint of her. Reverently, he pushed the robe off her shoulders, down her arms allowing it to fall with a whoosh of fabric to the floor.  Standing before him glowing in her rose-colored gown her nipples began to harden as they were now exposed to the cooler air of the room. They strained against the silky fabric of the nightgown making Jamie long to touch them, suckle them.

“Claire,” he groaned. His hand rose and slid inside the gown taking in the fullness of her breast. He felt her shudder against his touch.  He slid his fingers over each nipple in turn, rolling, stroking, flicking.

As he caressed each breast, her breathing grew heavier. Her eyes closed, her head fell back, lips parted moaning Jamie’s name softly. Her belly tightened and felt a growing warmth and wetness between her thighs. Oh, how she wanted him.

“I mean to know ye, Claire, every part of ye. I want to know how ye feel, what ye smell like, and how ye taste.  I want to know all yer womanly secrets.”

_“My God,” she thought. “Maizie was right. He did want to devour her.” A tremor rushed through her with that thought._

Jamie’s hands went to the thin straps of the nightgown and slid them off her shoulders letting the silk flutter down pooling around her feet. She was naked to him now. Bare.

Taking two steps back he gazed upon the beauty of his love.  The light from the fireplace danced across her skin illuminating her porcelain skin. She glowed like a hundred suns filling the room with her radiance. Overcome by this vision before him, he let out a gasp and a single tear ran down his face.  _“_ Tu êtes plus belle que dix milliards couchers de soleil.”

She blushed furiously at this extravagant compliment. A moment of awkwardness ensued, she was unaccustomed to being naked before a man, particularly under such intense scrutiny. Suddenly, she became shy, moving to cover herself with her arms.  

“Dinna cover yerself, mo neighan donn, yer sae beautiful and I wish to look at ye.”

Leaving her arms at her sides, she held her head up allowing herself to be admired.

“I want to see you too, Jamie.”  Walking forward she took the ties of his robe in her hands pulling them apart.  He was naked underneath the robe.  She pushed the robe over his shoulders and down his arms watching as it tumbled to the floor.

Claire stood back and took him in.  He was beautifully made, chiseled face with high cheekbones reminiscent of his Viking heritage. His body toned and hard muscled. The body of an athlete or warrior. There was nothing physically soft about him. His arousal was clearly evident. It was engorged, flushed, and ready. Struck with a sudden curiosity, she wondered how it would feel as it rent her soft flesh, filling her completely. She wanted to touch him everywhere.

“I want to see your scars.”

Jamie opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it. He hung his head, closed his eyes, and nodded giving her permission to inspect his back.

Claire walked slowly to Jamie. She trailed her hand over his skin relishing the feeling of strength emanating from him. His back was a maze of scar tissue. The area of injury was extensive and unable to be totally covered in grafts. Skin expanders had been used to help close some of the wounds. Some were left to heal on their own. Claire traced the scars with featherlight touches caressing each one. She leaned in to press a kiss to each of the marks in turn just as a mother would do to soothe a child’s injury. Jamie trembled from Claire’s attentions.

After walking around him she returned to face him. He kept his face and eyes averted from her. Her hand tenderly stroked his face feeling the rasp of his stubble. Still, he refused to meet her gaze.

“Do I sicken ye, lass? Do ye find me repulsive?” he spoke in a wavering voice as he looked into the distance fearing rejection from the woman he loved.

“No, you don’t sicken or repulse me. I find you heartbreakingly beautiful.”

Jamie let out a breath that he didn’t know he was holding. His eyes swam with tears as he gazed upon his beloved. She was able to see beyond his deformity and see him for who he was.

Claire walked toward Jamie, wrapped her arms around his neck, pressed her hips against his, trapping his hardened length against their bellies. She raised her eyes, the shade of perfectly aged sherry to meet his of cerulean blue,

“Jamie, take me to bed, make love to me.”

A visible change overcame him.  He looked positively feral. Eyes glazed like black endless pools, black as a starless night sky. His red-gold hair, still damp from the shower, was a mass of curls that framed his face giving the appearance of a predatory cat stalking its prey. His muscles tense, hands clenched into fists, ready to pounce.

Claire kept her arms around Jamie’s neck as she ground her hips against his, needing to feel the heat of his length against her. His hands slowly stroked her back pulling her closer to him.

“I dreamt of this so often. Now, it’s real.”

“Yes, it is,” she said resting her head against his chest.

Reaching down he lifted Claire up, her legs coming around his waist, and carried her to the bed. Gently, ever so gently, he laid her down on the bed.

Jamie stood there taking in the goddess before him. He reveled in the lushness of her womanly body. Her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo made of dark curls. Her skin was flushed pink from want and need. Jamie ran a finger over her lips, they were moist, soft, and red like rose petals, and they were begging to be kissed. Her skin was the color of cream and soft as velvet. Jamie spied her breasts, the heavy globes that he desired, that he wanted to hold and feel their weight in his hands. She had delicate pink nipples that he longed to take in his mouth and suckle like a babe. Her legs were slightly parted, but enough that he could see her want.

He climbed into the bed and held his love in his arms.

“Mo ghràdh,” he whispered.

They spoke to each other through the language of the soul, from the voice of the heart and through the action of the body. In this joining of the trinity of soul, heart, and body, their souls would recognize its lost half, hear the voice of the heart calling, and unite through the body. And they would, at last, become one, become whole, become complete.

Gentle caresses, lightly stroking gave way to a bolder touching of face, arms, breast, and thighs. Always reaching toward the most intimate and sacred parts of their bodies striving toward connection, oneness.

Sweet sighs, throaty moans, words of love were carried away from their lips like a soft breeze floating through a meadow ruffling through the flowers.

Jamie rose over her nudging her legs further apart with his knee. He lay on top of her, balancing his weight on his arms. He kissed her eyes and the tip of her nose. Jamie came to concentrate on her mouth. Gently, he placed a kiss so soft, so tender on her lips as to make her weep. Holding her gaze, he lightly slid his tongue across her lips, softly, tenderly. Soon mouths, lips hungrily sought more. His tongue skimmed her trembling lips seeking entrance which she gladly gave. Their tongues battled for supremacy, swirling, thrusting, probing, tasting each other breaking apart only when they needed air.

Jamie slowly slid down Claire’s body, peppering her skin with warm wet kisses. His greedy hands found the full swell of her breasts. They were full, heavy, and ripe in his hand. He caressed each one paying homage to them equally. Her nipples were raised and firm. Jamie’s mouth took possession of each nipple in turn.

Claire cried out, “Jamie! Please!” She arched her back encouraging him to take more of her nipple into his mouth, suck harder. He bit down just enough to cause her to gasp.

She began to writhe beneath him. Her breathing became more ragged. Her belly was tight, and there was a throbbing deep inside of her that she needed satisfied. She was losing herself under his touch.

Jamie began to make his way down Claire’s body, leaving a trail of hot kisses, small nips, and bites along her chest and belly.  His smoldering eyes never left her face, watching her as her pleasure built.

Claire sucked in her breath after Jamie had nipped at a particularly sensitive area on her belly.  

“Does it hurt?” 

“A bit.” 

“Do ye want me to stop?”

“N..N..Noooo,” Claire replied her voice shaking.

“Good,” he said his mouth forming a self-satisfied smirk.

Jamie reached his objet de désir, the apex of her femininity.  He let his large calloused fingers drift down feeling her wetness taking some of her moisture on his fingers.  He brought his fingers to his nose, “Eau de femme.” His tongue snaked out and ran across his fingers tasting her nectar. Jamie nuzzled his face into the cleft, inhaled her scent. “Parfum d'amour.”

His fingers opened her. His tongue found her pleasure nub and began to circle, swirl around and over it. His fingers began to stroke her entrance. One finger entered her, then another. His fingers moving in time with his tongue.

“Christ, ye are so tight and so wet!” Jamie was driven into a deeper savage lust.

Ripples of pleasure ran through her. Her body was set aflame. She cried out Jamie’s name begging, pleading for release followed by obscenities falling from her lips.

Moving relentlessly against his fingers and tongue she desperately sought more, sought her release.

"Dinna move, lass. Let me pleasure you.”

“I can’t help it, Jamie, I really can’t.” Claire whimpered.

Jamie brought his arms over her legs grasping onto to her hips, pinning them down against the bed to still her movements, hoping to prolong her pleasure.

The restraint drove her to near madness from the sensations. Claire fisted the sheets in her hands, gathering them, twisting them. Held down by his arms and the weight of his body, she realized she was helpless against him. She was his prisoner.  Prisoner to his lust. His want. His need. His love for her. And truth be told, she was held captive by her own lust and love for him.

Claire’s hands moved down grabbing Jamie’s hair urging him on. His hair was soft and silky under her fingers. Jamie redoubled his efforts.  His tongue flicked across her sensitive tissue, and his tongue entered her tasting her.

“Christ, yer honeypot is sae sweet. Yer driving me mad, woman.”

Claire moaned and whimpered. She was close and she knew it.

His eyes, a dark steely blue, was absorbed in watching her come apart from his ministrations.

“Claire, let it go. I want to watch you fall apart. Come for me, lass.”

She arched her back and cried out a keening sound deep from the recesses of her soul as she reached her zenith. Her body shook, trembled in the aftermath of her release.

Jamie climbed up and next to Claire holding her to his chest. He murmured sweet words in the Gàidhlig to soothe her.

As Claire’s breathing came under control, she developed a wicked look in her eyes.

Flipping Jamie on to his back she said, “You think this is over, do you? Well, guess again.”

She swung a leg over his groin and began rubbing herself along his length.

“Claire, what the devil do ye think yer doing?” Jamie looked startled by Claire’s sudden dominance.

“Don’t you like that, Fraser? Just think how it will feel when you’re inside of me.”

Jamie moaned.

She leaned forward taking his mouth tasting herself on his lips. Claire found this to be arousing knowing that her essence anointed his lips, mouth, tongue, and face.  Now, her lips would hold the promise of waves of pleasure yet to come for Jamie.

“Fair’s, fair’s my love. It’s my turn.”

“But, mo ghràdh, that was for you. It was about you, giving you pleasure.”

She gave him a puzzled look, “And you think this won’t?”

Bending to her work, she took hold of Jamie’s ear, nibbling, licking it. Her tongue followed the length of his muscular neck sucking, biting at the sensitive skin. He moaned. His hands held on to her hips. He pushed her hips down hard against him and began grinding against her.

Claire bent and took his nipple between her teeth, biting causing him to groan. 

“A little pain enhances the pleasure, don’t you think? She gave him a salacious smile.

Jamie looked up at Claire. Her amber eyes were alight, glowing with lust. He didn’t know who this _bean an deamhan_  was. But, he was glad she was his.

Continuing on her quest, she left a trail of kisses and love bites down his body. When she reached her heart’s desire, she pressed a loving kiss to his shaft.

“Claire! Ye canna mean to do…”

“And why not?” she looked at him curiously.

“Because!”

“Well, that is a very poor answer.”  In one swift move, her mouth engulfed him. There was a tangy taste to him and a strong male scent around him something that could only be described as uniquely Jamie.

“Claire, wait, stop….No! Wait, ye canna…Oh! God!  Dinna stop, please, dinna stop. Ahh. Oh, Claire!”

Her tongue ran along the length of his shaft and swirled at the head stoking a fire deep in the pit of his belly. She lightly ran her teeth over the shaft increasing the sensations.

“God, Claire.” His hands rested in her hair, caressing, pulling.

She changed her plan of attack. Her small hand encircled his hardened length, slowly stroking up with a bit of a twisting motion. She used her tongue and lips to tortuously lick and suck the tip.

A deep throaty growl issued from Jamie as he watched Claire love him. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles and fingers were white. His muscles tensed and rippled as he came perilously close to the edge of no return.

“Claire,” Jamie hissed, “Ah need ye, lass. Ah needta be inside of ye, now.”

Claire looked up from her attentions, her eyes sparkling. “You want me, Jamie?”

“Aye,” he said through gritted teeth. “Ah needta feel ye on ma cock.” His Scots was getting broader.

She swung her leg over his hips. Taking him in her hand and gently rubbing his cock against her entrance giving him a seductive look.  “Is this where you want to be?”

“Damn ye woman, damn yer teasing. Ye wicked wee vixon. Ye ken what ah mean. Claire, please!”

Claire smiled at him as she impaled herself on him. She felt herself stretch to accommodate his length and girth. Her eyes widened and her mouth formed a perfect _O_.

Her hands braced on his chest and she began to rock. Jamie’s hips thrust up in time with each of her movements. He gripped her hips pressing them down grinding against her. He pressed so hard that he knew he would leave bruises. He didn’t care.

“Yer mine, now and forever, Claire. Whether ye will it or no, yer mine.”

“Yours,” Claire gasped.

In one swift move, Jamie grabbed Claire turning her on to her back and continued driving his hips home. Claire wrapped her legs around his hips encouraging him to go deeper.

“Harder,” she whispered. Jamie needed no further encouragement thrusting deeper and harder reaching the of her the tip of her womb.

Moans. Guttural cries. Whimpers. Begging. Cursing.

The tension built in their bodies asking for release. Shock waves of pleasure erupted over them as they reach the pinnacle of their completion with each other.

They collapsed into each other’s arms, sweaty, spent, sated, and so in love.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tu êtes plus belle que dix milliards couchers de soleil. – You are more beautiful than a billion sunsets.
> 
> Eau de femme – Scent of a woman. Taken from the Fiery Cross the windowsill love scene
> 
> Parfum d'amour – Perfume of love. Taken from the Fiery Cross the windowsill scene.
> 
> Bean an deamhan – Demon Woman
> 
> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.  
> I hope you all like it. I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I am starting chapter 8. I don’t know when it will get done, but as soon as it is, I will post.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> As always I welcome your thoughts, comments, suggestions. I really look forward to reading them. I am so curious to see what you all think about this chapter.


	8. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. It is a multi chapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. As the title obviously indicates this is about the morning after their first intimate experience.  
> I would like to thank two very special and talented writers Curlsgetsdemgurls and LadyVioletHummingbird for their encouragement and being the betas. I could not have done this without you and that's the truth.

Jamie Fraser laid in his hotel bed watching the dawn slowly break over the frozen sleeping city. The sky underwent a metamorphosis transitioning from the inky black of night to the vibrant colors of the day. Streaks of hot pink, vivid orange, and fiery golden yellow glowed in the heavens splattering across an underlying electric blue.  It was breathtakingly beautiful, so beautiful as to cause him to weep. But nothing could surpass the goddess who slept beside him. Claire. His Sorcha, his light.

Claire lay on her side, back curled into his chest. Their bodies fit well together. Each one piece of a puzzle when combined made a whole, a complete picture.

He ran his hands along the planes of her body becoming familiar with each dip and luscious curve. Her body, while thin and lithe, spoke of a woman’s sensuality. A hand drifted to cup that sweet round arse of hers.

Aye, plump and juicy like a fat wee hen.

He felt himself rouse just from the mere thought of her. She consumed him. The need left him wanting, needing. He knew he could take her again and again and it would never be enough.

Smiling tenderly, Jamie brushed an errant curl away from Claire’s face. Her hair, that glorious mane, spread out across the pillow a tangled, tousled mess. She would awake and be annoyed with it. There would be fussing, muttered obscenities, and futile attempts to tame it into some semblance of order. Chuckling, Jamie admitted that one of the things he loved about her (and truth be told, he loved everything about her) was her hair, as it truly represents who she is.  At times, she could be wild and free just like her curls. Most of the time she would confine her curly wig into a conservative bun. The reserved Dr. Beauchamp, her public persona. But, her hair would never stay in place. It always struggles to escape its confines and become free. He witnessed the wild and unrestrained side of his enchantress last night, giving and receiving pleasure without inhibition. She was simply magnificent. Jamie blushed at the thought of what they had done, hoping they could do that again soon.

Jamie yawned and stretched feeling each one of his vertebrae popping. He hadn’t slept much during the night. It was his duty to stand guard over his beloved as she slept. He was the Watcher of Her Sleep; The Guardian of her Dreams. Jamie snorted at himself.

“ _Becoming poetic are we, Fraser?_ ”

He rolled his eyes at his own pretentiousness.

“ _Weel, if I’m becoming a poet, then she will be my poem_.”

He grinned at the thought.

Eyes heavy and gritty from the lack of sleep, Jamie fought to stay awake. Wrapping his arms around Claire, he pulled her closer to his chest.  Taking in a deep breath, he inhaled her sleepy scent. Her fragrance comforted him allowing him to relax.  He settled himself spooning into her, back to chest, arse to groin, legs intertwined. The act while intimate soothed him. Jamie began to drift, feeling the pull of sleep and surrendered to it.

****************

The morning sunlight slowly crept along the floor clambering up the bed settling on Claire’s sleeping countenance rousing her from slumber.  Eyes squinting, she blinked adjusting to the harsh glare suffusing throughout the room.

“ _I should have closed those bloody drapes last night._ ”

Peering through narrowed eyes at the clock, it cheerfully blinked 9:43 AM. Claire attempted to shift to her side, wanting very much to return to sleep. This proved impossible as she was held in the steel embrace of a very large, very warm...very naked Scot. One arm wrapped around her chest, while the other came around her waist, tightening every time she tried to move.

“ _Christ, this is what it must feel like being caught in a bear trap._ ”

Claire chuckled to herself imagining Jamie as a great giant red bear. Jamie pulled Claire closer making huffing and snuffling noises into her hair.  

Falling into a deeper sleep, his arms became limp, the vise-like grip momentarily relaxed. Quickly, Claire changed position her head now resting on Jamie’s well-muscled torso. She centered her ear over his chest, listening.

_Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub, Lub-Dub_.

The sounds of the strong gentle beat of his heart hypnotic, serene. She felt content and safe surrounded by his arms, sharing a bed with him. Nestling closer, Claire became aware of a hardness pressing against her belly.

_“Hmm, penile tumescence,_ ” Claire, ever the clinician, mused “ _He must be in REM sleep.” She wondered what he could be dreaming about, hoping it was her._

******************

“ _Hello, Claire, I see you have taken a lover,” said a cultured English male voice. Tall and thin, he had the athletic grace of a tennis player. An attractive chap with an aristocratic face, he possessed dark wavy brown hair, and eyes of hazel flecked with honey. Attired in a three-piece brown suit, white button-down shirt, and striped tie, the figure jammed one hand into his pants pocket, cocked his head to one side, projecting a rakish air._

_“Hello, Frank. Why don’t you go get stuffed? While you’re at it, get out of this bed,” Claire said her voice laced with anger._

_Frank chose to ignore Claire’s request._

_“He is rather large is he not?” Frank sneered. “Is that what appeals to you these days, Scottish barbarians? Are you having fantasies about being dominated that you need such a brute in your bed? I recall Joe Abernathy had you reading those dreadful novels. Ghastly, really. I can just imagine the title: ‘The Scottish Barbarian and the English Rose’,” he laughed contemptuously. “TSK, I always thought you to be a refined lady of gentle birth,” he said in a reproachful tone._

_“Frank, you never took the time to know anything about me or what I needed or wanted. But Jamie does. Now get out of my head! Go away!”_

_“How sweet! Jamie, is it? Hmm, sounds rather boyish, doesn’t it,” The Englishman mocked._

_“I’ll have you know he’s no boy,” Claire growled vehemently.  “He’s more man than you’ll ever be.  Jamie is kind, gentle, funny, supportive of me, and most of all he loves me. He is everything I could possibly want in a man — something you wouldn’t know anything about. I really don’t know why I am having this conversation with you.”_

_“You know perfectly well why Claire. You called me here to fuel your insecurities, your inadequacies. I am a figment of your imagination, your dreams. You only have yourself to blame.”_

_“You know you’re right.  I did call you here. It’s to tell you I am no longer the frightened, insecure girl you knew. You can no longer intimidate me or make me feel inadequate. I have grown emotionally, and I found my self-confidence  — no thanks to you.  I am happy and in love. Yes, I am in love with Jamie. So, why don’t you just bugger off? Oh, and do us both a favor, don’t come back.”_

_“I’ll be back Claire when you call me again.” The fetch faded into the gray mist of her dream-world._

*************

It was late morning and the sky became a dazzling azure blue, vast and limitless. The sunlight reflected off the whiteness of the snow giving it an even greater brilliance.  As the sun climbed higher, the reflection from the golden beams struck the sleeping lovers rousing them from the land of Nod.

Jamie woke first, finding Claire snuggled in his arms, head still pressed against his chest. He lowered his lips and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Her eyes blinked, as she slowly moved toward wakefulness.

“Good morning  _mo chridhe_ , did ye sleep well?”

“Yes, yes I did. And you? Did you sleep well?”

Claire hated lying to Jamie, but she was loath to start the day talking about her disturbing dream.  She would tell him everything...later.

“Aye, I did. Better than I have in a long time.”

Jamie bent forward and kissed the tip of Claire’s nose, letting out a deep sigh of contentment.

“Are ye hungry _a leannan_?”  

“Yes, famished. Aren’t you?” Claire looked up into his fathomless blue eyes.

“Aye, but what I’m hungry for is no’ on the menu.”

“I thought you would have had your fill of me last night.”

“Nah, never  _mo ghràdh_.”

Jamie ran his fingers down the side of her cheek and along the sensitive skin of her neck. Claire shivered under his touch.  In return, her hand went to the nape of his neck and at feeling the soft curls, brought his head down to her mouth. His lips were soft and warm. She melted into his kiss; her heart fluttering in her chest.

“I could get used to waking up like this every morning,” Jamie said his bright blue eyes twinkling.

“So could I,” Claire whispered as she stroked the rough plush of his morning stubble.

His large hands caressed her back up and down before settling on her arse giving it a good squeeze.  

Claire squeaked.

“Ye ken, Beauchamp, it was torture watching ye walk away from me in yer scrubs.  I’d see yer sweet fat arse swaying seductively as ye walked down the corridor. It took all my self-control not to throw ye over my shoulder, carry ye off, and have my way with ye on the spot,” he grinned.

Claire looked up at him offended,

“My arse is not fat, Fraser! I prefer to think of it as  _Rubenesque_. More voluptuous, than fat.”

“Call it what ye will. ‘Tis fat. Just how I like it.”

With that, Jamie gave said arse a loving swat and got out of bed.  He stood naked by the side of the bed stretching luxuriously. Claire did enjoy watching Jamie move. His movements graceful, belying the strength and power his body possessed. Bending down, he retrieved his robe and put it on.

“Why don’t ye take a bath while I order up some breakfast for us?”

“Alright, that sounds like a good idea.”

Claire slipped out of bed while Jamie held open her robe wrapping her snugly in it.

Claire walked to the bathroom, ran the water for the bath adding a bath oil and bubble bath called Romance to the water. The bubbles blossomed up like white fragrant clouds filling the air with the scent of roses, sage, orange, and rosemary as they dispersed. Claire entered the tub, slid down until she was covered in the sweetly scented foam to her shoulders.  

“Ahh.”

Sighing, she closed her eyes, enjoying the absolute bliss of relaxing in the water. The door opened and Jamie stepped in carrying two champagne flutes, the champagne, and the strawberries.

“Mind if I join ye, lass?”

“No, not at all.  There is plenty of room,” Claire looked up at him smiling.

Taking his phone from his robe pocket, Jamie put on some soft instrumental music, popped the cork on the champagne, poured the glasses, and placed a strawberry in each. Dimming the lights just a little, he removed the robe and joined Claire in the tub. Jamie moved with a natural elegance for such a large man, nimbly descending into the water without causing a wave or a ripple allowing them to face each other.

“Do ye no’ feel a wee bit decadent,  _mo chridhe_? I’ve never done such a thing as this.”

He closed his eyes leaned back so only his head could be seen above the mass of bubbles and let out a contented sigh.

Claire giggled at the sight of him up to his neck in bubbles.

Jamie grinned and reached along the edge of the tub finding the champagne flutes and handed one to Claire.

“What should we toast to?” Jamie paused contemplating. “Ah, I have one. Here’s to a lady of grace, a woman of strength, a lass of astonishing beauty, and the woman that has captured my heart, Claire Beauchamp.”

Whether from the heat of the water, the nearness of Jamie, the effusive compliment, or all three, Claire’s face flushed.

Touching their flutes together, they sipped the champagne. When Jamie finished he retrieved the strawberry from his glass bit the bottom, causing the juice to flow freely.  Jamie ran the berry seeping its sweet-tart fluid over Claire’s generous lips, painting them a ruby red. He pressed the fruit to her lips teasing them apart with Claire accepted his gift.  She slowly chewed it all while her sultry amber eyes focused on him. A few drops of sweet liquid trickled out of Claire’s mouth settling onto her lips. Jamie leaned forward, eyes riveted on her mouth. His tongue swirled over her lips licking the nectar from them savoring the taste of the strawberry and her.  Her lips stained red were plump, sweet, and begging him to claim them.

“I would very much like to kiss you, Claire,” his eyes never wavering from her.

“I would like that very much,” Claire replied breathlessly.

Their lips met. His were soft, warm, with a hint of champagne. Hers were supple and sweet with a lingering taste of berry. Jamie's tongue quested across her lips seeking entry which Claire gave gladly. Their tongues met in a sweet caress, touching, stroking sending sparks and shivers through each of them. They broke apart resting forehead to forehead absorbing each other in through their breath.

“Turn around, I’ll wash yer back.”

Claire did as Jamie requested settling between his legs. Knees bent, Claire, rested her forehead on her thighs providing ample access to her back.

Jamie reached for the bath sponge. Soft and silky, he filled it with water adding the sweet-scented soap to create a rich creamy froth. He slowly began to massage Claire’s back, moving in circles working the foam into her skin. He lifted each arm, stroking up and down from shoulders to fingertips. Claire’s head rolled back falling against Jaime’s chest.

“Hmm, that feels so nice, Jamie.”

“Ye like it,  _a nighean_? Why dinna ye rest yer back against my chest too?”

Claire willingly complied. Once more, Jamie loaded the sponge letting the soapy water trickle over her chest, between her breasts, and over her nipples. Slowly, unhurriedly, he brought the sponge down tracing a path down toward her belly. Claire made small mewling sounds deep in her throat.

“Move yer legs apart, lass. ”

The silkiness of the sponge contrasted with the pressure Jamie applied to her apex.  Claire began to shift and writhe in time to Jamie’s movements. Her mouth opened breath becoming shallow. She began to whimper. Claire placed her hand over Jamie’s adding to the already delicious sensation he was creating. Her lips moved not making a sound. A curse perhaps, or was it a prayer in supplication?

“Ye like this, lass?”

Jamie’s arousal grew, the need for her surging.  

“Yes.”

Claire began to squirm, twisting her body. She needed his mouth, needing to feel it against hers. She leaned in, their lips meeting giving him a soul-searing kiss, igniting a blaze of passion that threatened to devour them both

Jamie rose up with the water streaming off his chiseled body. He looked like Poseidon rising from the depths of the ocean.

“ _Mo ghràdh_ , I must have ye or die!”

Claire raised her arms up to him.

“Then have me.”

Jamie lifted Claire from the bath. She would be his Venus, nascent from the sea.  Her arms were wrapped securely around his neck; her face buried in his chest. His strength supported her, cradling her against him. In two strides, he moved from the tub to the vanity countertop. While one arm supported Claire, the other swept the counter top clearing it of bottles, tubes, jars, and soaps sending them flying across the room. He had no care for the shamble he was creating, no attention to spend on it. His breathing was rapid and eyes now dark with lust. He placed Claire on the cool marble countertop nudging her legs apart. Jamie came closer settling between them. He needed to touch her. He ran his hand down the valley between her breasts, across her belly, and resting on her hip.

_Ah Dhia, her skin is so smooth, so soft. It shimmers like a pearl newly pulled from the sea._

His hand dropped between her thighs wanting, needing to touch her. The tender flesh of her thighs opening wider inviting his fingers to roam over the satiny skin.

“Kiss me, Jamie.”

Jamie licked his lips, leaned in claiming her mouth.

Surrendering to the driving force of his kiss left her breathless, and wanting. An aching tension grew between them igniting the flames of their lust.

Jamie spied the mirror behind Claire. Dripping with condensation, he swiped at it clearing the steam obstructing his view of them. He could watch; he could see what he was doing to her.  He didn’t think he could get any harder but the thought of watching made his cock so hard he didn’t think he could feel it anymore.

Leaning back on her arms, Claire spread herself wide in invitation. Jamie took his cock in hand and began to rub it against her sensitive tissue, making her moan.  He placed himself at her entrance and in one swift motion slid home.

Claire gasped at the sudden intrusion into her body.

“God! Jamie!”

“Lie back  _a nighean_. I want to love ye thoroughly.”

Claire complied. Taking her legs he placed them upon his shoulders. His thumb moved to the center of her arousal, stroking building sensations of molten waves of pleasure through her. Joining to her in their heated flesh, he moved sliding in and out of her, watching himself.

“Look in the mirror as I take ye. See how I love ye.”

Claire craned her head, looking into the mirror she saw the ecstasy and agony of pleasure and passion across Jamie’s face. Struggling to find purchase, her nails grasped vainly at the slick marble countertop.

“Help me up, Jamie! I want to see us.”

A large strong hand supported her back allowing her to sit up; the other pushed her head down. Legs widely spread Claire could see him take her, watching him thrust into her, possess her. They became one.

It became more than she could endure. This was the most erotic thing she had ever done, becoming both participant and spectator.  Moaning loudly, her hips began to gyrate wildly. She could hear the thrum of her blood as it coursed through her body. She could no longer focus her arousal was complete.  There was only pure sensation, pure pleasure.

“Jamie! I can’t...I...I… Oh, God Jamie!”

Claire’s nails raked down Jamie’s chest leaving angry red marks in their wake.  She felt herself flood around him. Her climax shattering. Her Scot was not far behind.

“Claire! Oh, God! Claire!,”

Jamie shuddered spilling himself into her. He leaned forward biting her at the juncture of neck and shoulder. He trembled in the aftermath of their love. They clung to each other as they descended from the throes of their passion.

Jamie looked at Claire somewhat abashed. Helping her down from the countertop, he dampened a face cloth and offered it to her.

“Claire, I never...that is, I didn’t mean... Oh, Christ!”

Face flaming, he grabbed his robe and left the room; leaving Claire puzzled.

Have I done something wrong?

Claire straightened up the room, picking up the bits and pieces that had been unceremoniously thrown onto the floor.  Putting on her robe, she arranged herself into some semblance of order and walked out into the room.

Jamie was standing with his hands in his pockets staring out the large window onto the street below.

Boston was trying to dig itself out. Sanitation trucks with large plows attempted to make the streets passable again.  Merchants with shovels and snowblowers cleared their walkways from the mounds of snow. People slipped and slid on the sidewalk while others endeavored to walk around the piles of drifting snow with varying degrees of success.

Absorbed in his thoughts, Jamie saw none of it.

_How could I treat her like this? What is wrong with me to use her in such a way?  She must think me a beast or an animal.  I don’t deserve her._

Disgusted with himself, Jamie hung his head in shame and embarrassment, unable to face Claire. So deeply lost in his thoughts he didn’t hear her enter the room.

“Jamie are you alright? Please tell me what’s wrong. Was it me? Was it not good? I’m sorry.”

Claire bit her lip nervously. Frank had always made her feel inadequate in bed. She did not want to disappoint Jamie. She couldn’t bear it.

Jamie turned to look at her with eyes wide in disbelief. His voice soft, halting,

“Claire, what are ye talking about? Ye did nothing wrong, lass. It was me.”

His shoulders slumped and he had difficulty maintaining eye contact.

“I’m the one who should be apologizing to ye for my behavior. Or lack of it.”

He continued gazing at a place in the distance that only he could see.

“I dinna want ye to think, I mean I dinna want ye to feel that I only want ye for…”

Jamie waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the bed.

“Jamie, I don’t know what you’re talking about. You did nothing wrong. Why should you apologize to me?”

“Claire, my Da taught me that women were to be respected, revered especially ah, in sex. He said that when ye love a woman, ye should pay tribute to her body as it is her right. I dishonored ye, lass. What I did was selfish. I have no claim on ye. I am no’ yer husband. I did not consider ye. And for that I must beg yer pardon.

Jamie began to pace about the room, restless running his hands through his hair.  He turned facing Claire, “Christ do ye no’ ken how much I love ye?  Ye are the air that I breathe, the blood of my heart. Without ye, I am naught but an empty shell. Your face is my heart  _mo ghràdh_  and the love of you is my soul.

“Ye see I want this, want us to be more. I want something we can build on, grow with. No’ just some magnificent weekend and then we part. That’s not good enough, Claire. Not for me and certainly not for ye.  Ye deserve better.”

Jamie was stiff and rigid, fighting to control his emotions. He did not want to lose Claire because of one foolish mistake.

Claire was touched by his concern for her and her feelings. She walked around to face him, cupping his face in to get him to meet her eye.  Jamie resisted.

“Look at me, please. You did nothing wrong. I wanted you to.”

Claire spoke softly and tenderly.

“You make me feel beautiful, sexy, desirable, loved, wanted, safe. How can these things be wrong?”

Jamie turned looking at her, a single tear running down his face.

“Do ye mean it, Claire? That’s how I make ye feel?”

Claire thumbed away the tear. Standing on tiptoes she leaned in and sweetly kissed him on the lips.

“Yes, and so much more. I love you, Jamie Fraser.”

Jamie sniffed, a crooked smile on his face

“And I you.”

He wrapped his arms around her pulling her close.

“Well, now that is all out of the way let’s have some of this delicious breakfast that you ordered for us.”

“Oh, and Jamie,” Claire said mischievously, “the next time you want to do it in front of a mirror, just make sure I can see your sweet arse in action, aye?”

A devilish grin played across her face as she turned and walked away leaving Jamie standing with his mouth agape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.  
> I want to that all my readers for their patience as this chapter has been delayed. Some of you may know my husband was taken ill on Easter Sunday and I brought him to the hospital to rule out a heart attack. He did not have one thank goodness. He is home and well. Dummy here decided to take on an extra job. So I am struggling with getting used to it and the new docs. We are getting comfortable with each other now, so that's good. So updates will be as soon as I can.
> 
> I hope you all like it. I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I am starting chapter 9. I don’t know when it will get done, but as soon as it is, I will post.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> As always I welcome your thoughts, comments, suggestions. I really look forward to reading them. I am so curious to see what you all think about this chapter.


	9. Snow Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.
> 
> Chapter 9 gets our lovers out of the hotel and into a little fresh air. Jamie has a fantasy about Claire. Claire reveals a little about herself to Jamie. The rest of it is for the birds!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a multichapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like to thank a very special and talented writer curlsgetsdemgurls for her encouragement and being my beta. You have stuck with me from the beginning of this fic. I could not have done this without you. A million thanks for everything.

Jamie and Claire sat at the table by the window, enjoying their breakfast. Jamie attacked his bowl of parritch, mixed berries, and honey with the ravenous appetite of a starving wolf who just happened across a carcass.

“Nuthin’ like a healthy bowl of parritch to start the day,” said Jamie, giving a withering look at Claire’s breakfast choices of fried eggs, bacon, and toast slathered with butter and jam.

“Well, Fraser, when in America, eat like one,” she said while waving a delectable piece of crunchy fried pork in the air. “It happens to be quite good. Even though they have got this bacon thing all wrong. Not like the rashers we have at home. Still, it is delicious.” Popping the tasty morsel into her mouth, she rolled her eyes and groaned ecstatically.

Jamie’s eyes narrowed suspiciously at the remaining piece sitting on the plate, “Looks mostly like fat to me.” He reached over, snatching the ribbon of porkiness from her plate, considered it, and swiftly consumed it. “Hmm, fatty, salty, crispy, and smoky.  ‘Tis good, but I wouldna want to eat it every day.  Cannae be good for ye.”

Sighing and shaking her head,  Claire leveled a look of exasperation at him. “Live a little will you? We’re on vacation!”

He let out a laugh, “Yer right, but there is no need to be unhealthy.  As it is, I’ll no’ be going to the gym today. Hmm, mebbe I’ll just carry ye around instead,” he said smugly. Tilting his head to the side, he gave her body an appraising look, much like gazing upon the beauty of a perfect rose.

“What do ye weigh  _a leannan_ , about 8-9 stone? That’s no’ much. I’ll never get a decent workout just carrying ye around,” he smirked.

“Why thank you, I think. That is supposed to be a compliment, right? You don’t think I’m too thin do you?” Suddenly becoming self-conscious, she looked down at herself trying to figure out if she was too fat or too thin.

“Aye, it ‘tis and no yer not. I like ye just fine the way ye are.”

Jamie leaned back in his chair stretching out his long legs and taking a sip of his coffee.

“So, lass, what would ye like to do today?”

“Well, if you are worried about not getting your proper exercise, there are other forms of exercise that will raise your heart rate, you know,” Claire said as she cast a quick glance back toward the bed.

Jamie ignored this.

“I ken what we can do! Why dinna ye take me to some of yer favorite places ye liked to go when ye lived here?”

“I don’t know if that is a wise idea. Boston winters are very cold and I don’t think that either of us has appropriate clothes to go wandering about. Besides, I don’t know how many places are open today. Most people will be digging out.”

Getting up, Jamie went to rummage through his suitcase. Sure enough, he found his favorite forest green cable knit pullover, his black jeans, a pair of duck boots, and his down jacket.

“Weel, I’ll be damned.  I dinna remember packing these. Check yer bag let’s see what you have in there.”

Claire opened her suitcase and found clothes suitable for outdoor activities. She found her favorite cashmere jumper in midnight blue and her woolen turtleneck sweater in deep rich wine. She also found her favorite black skinny jeans, a warm wooly hat and gloves, and her parka.

“I know I didn’t pack these. I’m sure of it.” Her eyebrows drew together in confusion as she considered how these clothes ended up in her bag.

“It doesna matter how they got there, yer clothes are here. Let’s get dressed. I shall leave the itinerary to ye.”

Claire’s breathing quickened. She began to nervously play with one her curls, twisting it around her finger, over and over.  Truth be told, there was a certain amount of anxiety about leaving the room. She worried about dredging up old memories that she safely tucked away after ending her marriage to Frank. Least of all was the prospect of visiting places that held unpleasant memories. Most certainly she did not want to visit these places with Jamie. Fearing the possibility of a chance meeting with Frank gave her shivers.  She concluded that the likelihood of a chance meeting would be remote as classes would be canceled. That would leave Frank free to shack up with some bimbo, er umm, a young woman all day.

“What’s amiss, lass? Ye look a bit peely-wally. Are ye alright?”

“Sorry?”

“Something is bothering ye. It’s written all over yer face. Ye ken ye can tell me anything.”

Jamie walked back to the chair by the window, pulling Claire along. He sat down and settled her on his lap.

“I dinna want ye to feel that ye need to tell me anything that ye canna, but I can see yer fair fashed over something. Mo nighean donn, tell me what’s bothering ye if ye can.” He raised his hand cupping her cheek and began to stroke his thumb over her cheekbone.  Melting into the warmth of his hand, she relaxed.

“I wasn’t honest with you when I told you I slept well.”

She cleared her throat nervously, eyes darting around the room searching for something to focus on while gathering her thoughts.

“I, ah, had a nightmare about, …well, it was about Frank. It left me feeling rather unsettled, to say the least.”

Her body language and voice were contradictions, outwardly appearing composed while her voice quavered with emotion. Describing her dream, she related how Frank tried to plant seeds of doubt and used her insecurities against her.  _The Scottish Barbarian and The English Rose._  Insinuating she had a need for someone to dominate her. Jamie observed Claire as she told her story. Her face contorted with frustration, anger, shame; her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“I told…,” her voice cracked, “I told him that I love you and you love me. And, and that he should bugger off and not come back,” Claire said this with pride in her voice. “But he said he would come back when I called him. I don’t want to see him ever again, really I don’t. I’ll never call him back, never.” With that, Claire buried her face into Jamie’s shoulder crying shedding tears of outrage and irritation.

Jamie’s mouth drew together in a tight white line.  His eyes burned with anger.  _That Englishman, that filthy sassenach bastard! How could he have the audacity to come into his bed between him and his woman upsetting her, trying to sow the seeds of doubt._ He had no care for insults or slurs directed at him. He heard them before. But, Claire! She is kindness and goodness personified.  _If I ever meet him…_

Jamie’s arms came around her, pulling her close to him.  His strong hands rubbed her back in soothing circles. He spoke to her softly in  _the Gàidhlig_ , speaking words of comfort that had no meaning to Claire but spoke to her heart and soul.

Jamie cradled her close to his chest and gently stroked her hair, “I’ll let nay harm come to ye as long as I walk this earth. Dinna be afraid,  _a leannan_ , there is the two of us now.”

Claire nodded her head and sniffed.

Jamie’s hand reached under Claire’s chin, raising it up so that he could look onto her face. Her eyes were puffy, nose red and runny, and her cheeks were tear stained.

“Ye are so beautiful,  _mo chridhe_ ,” Jamie said smiling. He took a serviette wiping Claire’s runny nose as he kissed away her tears.

She sniffed, “You must be blind. I’m really not sure you should be operating anymore. I’m sure I don’t look beautiful right now.”

“Yer beautiful to me always,” he said lovingly.

Jamie’s voice took on a more serious tone. “Claire, if ye dinna want to go out because yer worried that ye will run into Frank,” he growled saying the bastard’s name, “I dinna want you to do anything that will make ye uncomfortable. We could always find something else to do.” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt at being suggestive.

“Ridiculous man,” she said with a smile in her voice, feeling so grateful to have found him.

Closing her eyes to aid her concentration, she considered Jamie’s suggestion carefully weighing each of the pros and cons.

_How much longer will I give Frank power over me, to control me and my life? It’s been three years since we divorced and he still tries to make me insecure, belittle me. When will I remove myself from his grasp? It’s now or never. It’s time to choose.  Time to take back what’s mine._

“NO! No, I won’t run and hide.  Frank has run my life for far too long, and I’ll be damned if I let him continue. Let’s go see Boston, Jamie. We’ll make our own memories,” Claire said grinning.

“That’s my lass. Yer strong, brave, and fearless and I love ye for it.” Jamie gave her a resounding smack on the lips that left her breathless.

They quickly dressed and departed the room laughing, smiling with their fingers intertwined.

**************

Jamie and Claire stepped outside of the comfort of their hotel into the bitter cold and biting winds. In spite of being warmly dressed, the frigid temperature threatened to seep its way into the very marrow of their bones.

The sidewalks were barely passable despite the best efforts of man, machine, and salt. Icy patches dotted the landscape causing the lovers to slip and slide along the walkways. Jamie’s hand reached out taking Claire’s elbow to steady her. They climbed over mounds of grey city snow that sported an occasional yellow streak.

After walking for twenty minutes, they reached Boston Common, each sporting red runny noses and equally red cheeks.

“I’m beginning to think yer first suggestion to stay in bed all day was a good idea,” Jamie said with a smirk on his face, the steam of his breath escaping with each word.

“Do you want to turn back?” A look of concern written all over her face.

“Nah, I was concerned about ye,  _Sassenach_.”

Claire stopped dead in her tracks.  “ _Sassenach_?! I know that word and it isn’t very nice.  Isn’t that something derogatory to call me?” Her amber eyes narrowed glaring at him with unnerving thoroughness.

“In truth, it depends on who and how they are saying it. The word sassenach really means Englishman or English lady. At worst, it means outlander. I have always called ye Sassenach in my mind.  Ye see I have always thought of ye as my English Lady. A woman of grace and refinement, a true Lady.”

With that, Jamie smiled placed his hand over his heart and made a courtly bow, “My Lady, I am at yer service.”

Giggling at the sight she decided to return the gesture.  Bowing her head and spreading the skirt of her jacket, Claire curtsied, “My Lord.”

Jamie popped up like a jack-in-the-box.

“Who told ye?” he demanded.

Claire looked quizzically at Jamie, “Who told me wot?”

“That I am a Laird.”

“You’re a wot???” she gasped.

“I am Laird Broch Tuarach of Lallybroch Estate.  My home. ‘Tis only an honorary title now, but it has been handed down in my family since the 18th century. Lallybroch is a working farm in the Highlands, ye ken.  My sister Jenny and her husband Ian run it. Their five children live there too. But, technically it is mine as I retain the title and will pass it on to my son someday.”

“Hmm, do I have to curtsy every time I see you, my Laird?” Claire asked with a coy smile.

Laughing to herself, she wondered how the OR staff would react if they had to curtsy every time he came to do a case.

“Nay, I think we can dispense with the formalities if ye please,” Jamie said with a chuckle.

“Good. It’s awfully hard to curtsy in the bloody snow.”

“May I offer ye my arm my Lady as we stroll about on this fine cold day…for the sake of yer safety of course. I wouldna want ye to slip and fall injuring yerself.” His blue eyes, as blue as the cold clear sky, crinkled with mirth as he extended his arm for her to take.

Bobbing her head, and lowering her eyelashes demurely she said, “It would be my pleasure, my Laird,” and placed her hand in the crook of his elbow. Claire suddenly wondered why this felt like such a familiar thing to do.

Jamie tucked her hand securely in place pulling his arm and her hand closer to his body. He began to speculate why it felt like he had done this more times than he could remember. It felt natural, more like an everyday occurrence for them to walk like this.

A strong wind blew up around them, coating Claire from head to foot in a sheath of powdery snow crystals. The hair that peaked out from under her cap glistened, lashes sparkled with the tiny flakes that clung to them, and her clothes were enrobed in glittering flakes. She took on an otherworldly aura.

His mouth opened as he watched the swirling dust of snow float around her.

She must be one of the faes. No, not just a fae, but  _Queen of the Fae_. For only the Queen could be so beautiful.

He stood there envisioning her in the finery befitting a Queen. A circlet of silvery moonbeams would adorn her head accentuating her mass of curls. Her lithe form draped in a diaphanous gown made of diamond dust while her feet were encased in slippers made from starlight.

He wanted to fall on his knees in worship, beg her to take him to her Queendom. He would become her Knight of the Realm, her Champion. With dirk and sword, he would do battle shielding her from harm. He would slay dragons, protect her from evil sorcerers, and safeguard her from malevolent creatures. As darkness envelops the earth, he would sleep at her feet sheltering and guarding her against the dangers that lurk in the blackness of night. She had cast a spell on him and he was happy to be under her power.

He heard the tinkling of her laughter, much like a wind chime, light and gentle in the breeze. Her eyes crinkled with merriment as a small buffy-brown bird landed on her shoulder. It hopped along coming closer to her ear merrily chirping. Claire raised her hand and stroked the downy head of the little bird speaking softly to it. Her hand went to her pocket and returned with a bit of her toast from breakfast. She opened her hand and the warbler flew onto her hand seized the bread and took wing.

Jamie stood in awe of the scene unfolding before him.  _“Is a wild bird so tame for her?!”_  The scene repeated itself several more times with birds flitting along her arm, singing and trilling to her. Each was tenderly stroked, given a bit of bread, then flew off to join its fellows. Her hand went to her pocket pulling out the remainder of the toast wrapped in the serviette. She tore the bread into bits scattering it on the snow.  En masse a clan of the small birds gathered joyously chirping doing a demented dance around the bread, pecking at it.

_Mary, Michael, and Bride, she is the Queen of the Fae!_

Claire looked at him with a radiant smile.

For a split second, Jamie became irrationally afraid.

“How did ye do that, lass!? The birds, they seem so tame!”

“I don’t do anything, really. They just come. It’s been happening for a long time, ever since I was a little girl. It started not long after my parents died,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders.

“ _Sassenach_ , do ye want to tell me about it if ye can?” Jamie asked cautiously knowing her parents’ death is a painful and sensitive area for her.

There was a moment of hesitation, then taking a deep breath to steel herself for the memories.

“As I told you after my parents deaths my uncle Lamb became my guardian. He was writing a book on the meaning of birds in different cultures. While he sat writing in his study, I would play in the garden. One day, not long after my arrival, I was playing with my plushy dog when a bird, a sparrow, flew down next to me. Its head turned side-to-side watching me. Then it began to sing one of the sweetest songs I had ever heard. I held out my hand and it hopped on, chirping madly while wildly flapping its wings as if it were a leaf caught in a maelstrom.”

Claire’s eyes clouded and her lip quivered while struggling to maintain her composure as the childhood memories beset her.

“I began to pet the bird and it quieted under my touch. It began to sing again, but this time soft and low. For a moment, I thought I heard my mother’s voice singing the lullaby she sang to me at bedtime.”

She gave Jamie a sidelong glance to see if he thought she was deranged. He stood there calm, placid, face expressionless, giving no hint to his inner thoughts.

“I started to cry and the bird flew off. I got up and ran into to tell Lamb what happened. He picked me up, put me on his lap, and cuddled me to his chest. After he wiped my tears, he told me that ancient Egyptians believed that sparrows carried the souls of the dead to heaven. Perhaps this one came to tell me that my parents were in heaven with God and the angels and I shouldn’t worry.”

A single tear ran down her cheek.

“I was happy that Momma and Daddy were in heaven, but I really didn’t understand all of what he was talking about.  Later, as they continued to visit me, we talked about it again. Lamb told me that a Buddhist teacher he knew believed that a person in mourning is considered a very holy person. This holy state opens the mourner to experience things that are beyond the physical world and more receptive to the spiritual world. Lamb thought that was why I thought I heard my mother singing or my father’s laugh when the birds came. Grieving opened my heart to other possibilities.”

“Three months before you came,” she continued, “whenever I would walk Ginger in the park the birds would continue to visit. I began to hear another voice, a new one. It was deeper, rich, and very, very masculine. He would call my name, sometimes in passion and sometimes with love and laughter.” Giving him a quick sidelong look she finished her tale,  “I know now that it was your voice I heard.”

Jamie startled at this revelation. Was it truly his voice or could it be the other’s voice calling out to her from across the centuries? He wondered if she was ready to hear about the _Fraser Legend_. No, he thought not just yet. He disliked withholding something from her but now was definitely not the right time.

Beginning to fidget, she moved her foot in the snow gouging out a divot with the heel of her boot. She felt the heat rising up to color her cheeks. She was afraid to look at Jamie fearing that she would see he truly thought her insane.

Neither spoke for a time. The only sound around them was the wind soughing through the leafless branches.

“Claire, look at me.” Jamie placed his fingers under her chin forcing her head up to look at him. She kept her eyes closed not able to bear the disdain she would see in his eyes for her.

“ _Mo ghràdh_ , look at me, please. I believe you. I dinna understand it, but I believe you.”

“How can you believe me when it sounds crazy even to me? Really, Jamie! I have often wondered if this…” Claire waved her hand toward the birds eagerly consuming the bread, “was nothing more than the imaginings of a sad and lonely child who grew up to become a sad and lonely adult searching for her lost parents and her lost home. A woman who is so desperate that she convinces herself that some sparrows hold the souls of her dead parents. Christ, Jamie!”

He looked at her, her glass face giving away her sense of loss, loneliness, and pain. “ _Sassenach_ ,” he spoke gently to her as if she were a frightened child, “I am an educated man but I am also a Highlander born and bred. I do ken there are many a thing that is beyond our understanding. There are many tales of the highlands that still canna be explained. Why not this?” His eyebrow lifted in an inquiry.

“Can ye explain what happened to Robert Gordon? The man was clinically dead after 30 minutes of resuscitation no heartbeat, no breathing. Then all of a sudden the man sits up and starts talking. He told us everything that happened in that room, everything we said and did. He said he saw his wife and bairns calling and greetin’ for him.  There was more for him to do he kent, so he decided to come back.”

“Yes, I remember.” Claire shuddered at the remembrance of the event. It still gave her chills to think about it.

“Can ye explain that? No, I dinna think so. There  **are** things that are outside our ken. Why must ye explain yers? It just is. Dinna question it, especially when it makes ye happy to believe so.”

Her rational mind, the scientific part of her, rejected any possibility of this being true, but the little girl in her wanted, no needed to hold on to any chance that she might still have some connection to her family.

Claire’s eyes drifted down toward the snow.  The clan of sparrows left, all except three.  She sighed.  It was always the same, three of the warblers always remained, two males and one female.

The birds stood there cocking their heads from side-to-side regarding Claire and Jamie. The female and one of the males flew up alighting on Claire’s shoulder. The female came close rubbing her feathery head against Claire’s cheek, softly cheeping to her.  The male landed on her opposite shoulder gently pecked at her hair.

The more vocal male flew up landing on Jamie’s forearm giving him a level look. He began to chatter and chirp loudly hopping up his forearm with the determination of a sprinter moments away from the finish line.

His black birdy eye coldly glared while uttering piercing squawks of what seemed to be warning or admonition.  The feathery wings spread wide fluttering frantically. This was one very agitated bird.

“If we are going to believe these creatures possess the souls of my family, I think he is my father and these two are my mother and uncle,” Claire said with a small smile.

“Aye, I think yer right,  _Sassenach_.”

Jamie reached up took hold of both of  Claire’s hands, linking them together.

“Sirs and Madam,” Jamie said with all solemnity, “I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, and I am deeply in love with yer daughter and niece. My intentions are honorable and I promise to see her safe, care for her and love her all the days of my life. I ask yer approval of our relationship.” He bowed his head in respect toward the feathery family.

In unison, their heads swiveled toward Claire questioning.

“I love him too. He fills my heart with love and joy. He takes away the emptiness. When I am with him it’s as if the sun comes out on a cloudy day filling my life with light and warmth.”

The downy kinfolk flew around them coming to land on their joined hands singing sweet and mellow.

“I hope ye dinna mind, but I plan to kiss yer daughter.”

Their hands broke apart.  Jamie raised his hands up to cup Claire’s face, “Before yer family, I love ye, Claire Beauchamp across all time.”

“I love you too, always and forever,” she sighed into his mouth.

He leaned forward and tenderly pressed his lips to hers. A kiss filled with so much love, tenderness, and promise.

His eyes crinkled and a smile lit his mouth, “Aye, I must love ye  _Sassenach_ , ye have me talking to the birds too.”

The little bird family took flight soaring high above the lovers and disappeared into the sky knowing their daughter and niece was well loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.  
> I want to that all my readers for their patience as this chapter has been delayed. Technology is a wonderful thing when it works. My hard drive died, and I was without my laptop for a few days. That was maddening. All fixed now!
> 
> Did anyone notice through the previous eight chapters that Jamie never called Claire Sassenach? It was one of the hardest things I had to do was to not let him call her Sassenach.
> 
> The sparrow scene was my take on the scene from the program, where Claire tells Jamie she would imagine hearing his voice when the sparrows came to her window. There really is a Buddist teacher, Tara Brach, who states that in some religions people who mourn are most holy and they may be open to more spiritual events.
> 
> I hope you all like it. Thank you for reading. 
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. Chapter 10 is in the works. I don’t know when it will get done, but as soon as it is, I will post.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/


	10. Getting To Know You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.
> 
> Chapter 10 is a stretch for me. I tried something different. Memories of growing up. What made them decide to become doctors. And what would a blizzard be without a snowball or two or three?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some words I used that I got from Google Translate, I hope they are correct. The story also includes references to middle eastern culture. I also hope these are correct. I did my due diligence and researched the culture as best as I could. If there are errors, I do apologize.
> 
> I need to thank @curlsgetdemgurls for putting up with me, encouraging me, and being the best beta around. I mean that.

 

_SPLAT!!!_

Something struck Jamie squarely in the center of his back. He had a suspicion of what hit him and who did it. Turning around he found Claire standing several feet behind him with the most angelic look on her face and her hands behind her back.

“What are ye doin’ there _a nighean_?” he asked, eyeing her suspiciously. She had the appearance of pure innocence.

“Oh, Jamie! I saw it happen. Those little buggers. It was a drive-by snowballing. They ran off that way.” she pointed with her chin toward the street. 

Against his better judgment, he turned to gaze in the direction that the supposed miscreants had fled.

_SMACK!!!_

Another snowball struck Jamie just below his hairline. The snow had yet to freeze and remained soft and powdery. The cold missile exploded sending a shower of fine-grained flakes across his neck tightly gripping his warm skin with icy fingers.

_“Ifrinn_! Now, Claire! I…” Jamie grumbled, wiping off his forehead, fingers cold. 

_THUMP!!!_

Hurling her third projectile, it impacted successfully at his mid-center. 

“OOF! I’ll get ye for this, ye wee minx. See if I dinna,” he said, his eyes narrowing. He meant to get his revenge.

“Catch me if you can!” Claire squealed as she turned to run as fast as the snow-covered walk permitted.

She was no match for Jamie’s long stride and powerful leg muscles.

“Got ye, ye wee besom. Now, tell me what I should do with ye?”  He caught up his Sassenach wrapped his arms around her, gripped her in a tight embrace, lifting her up.

“Anything you want to,” she smirked. 

Claire dropped her head down and gently kissed him on the tip of the nose. Her eyes shining bright with mischief.

“I can think of any number of things I’d like to do to ye, but none of them can be done in a public place.”

She lowered her head kissing him tenderly on his wide sweet mouth. Her lips parted, tongue sweeping across his, seeking entry. Granted. Their kiss deepened. The world, the cold, the snow all melted away.

“For the love of Mike! Get a room will ya?! This is a public park.” A voice barked out from some distance away.

The lovers broke apart, each looking at the other giggling.

“We have one!” they called back in unison to the anonymous voice.

“Then go there and use it, for Pete’s sake.” There was no malice to the voice rather it sounded amused and happy for the couple.

“Aye, I think we will. Thank ye for the advice.”

*************

The lovers continued their slow-paced walk.  Hands linked, fingers intertwined, they stole shy glances at each other. She found his crooked smile charming. He thought her smile sweetly radiant, warming him to the backbone. The walkway was narrow causing them to frequently brush against each other or they wanted to believe. 

They talked about everything and nothing, truly getting to know each other. Even though they had worked together for the past year, they knew precious little about each other.

“Have I ever told ye about my family,  _Sassenach_?”

“No, not really,” Claire shook her head. 

Jamie, a born storyteller, told her about his family and childhood at Lallybroch. 

“My Mam, she seemed to favor me for some reason.” He added quickly, “No’ that she dinna love Willie and Jenny, but she would always look at me, smile and tell me that I was special that I was born to do something important. She said she kent it the day I was born. She would look at me and say, _“Jamie lad, I want ye tae study hard, harder than ye want tae or think ye need tae. Someday ye will do something that will affect a lot of people. Ye need tae be ready.'’_  I always thought all Mams said such things to their bairns. I dinna ken what I was supposed to do, but I studied hard just as she asked.”

“Now my brother Willie, I idolized him.  He could do no wrong as far as I was concerned,” Jamie said with a wistful look on his face, his eyes glistening. “Lord, I was a true pest! I followed him everywhere he went, never chased me away. I mimicked everything he did or tried to. He was to be the next Laird, no’ me,” he said with some guilt in his voice. “He woulda been the better choice for it.”

“Why so?”

“He loved the land, the farm. No’ that I don’t, mind ye, but he woulda stayed at Lallybroch. No’ like me. I kent I had something else to do.”

He went on to tell her about playing with Ian his best friend and his sister Jenny. Bossy one she is and a true meddler. Jenny took over the household when Mam died. He told her tales of going fishing in a burn,  _sword_ fights with sticks, climbing trees, and a broken arm from falling out of a tree.

“Did I tell ye about the time Ian and I set the barn on fire? Accidental like, ye ken?” He looked rather sheepish in the telling. “Weel, it happened just after I turned fifteen.”

_“Did ye get it,” I asked anxiously as I grabbed Ian by the arm pulling him into the barn._

_“Aye, I did.” Ian looked around making sure that they were alone. He looked nervous._

_“We’re alone here ye numpty. Where is it?”_

_He pulled out a fairly crumpled handkerchief from his jeans pocket. The unwrapped bundle revealed a cigarette, somewhat bent, but intact. A half empty book of matches was withdrawn from his other pocket._

_Standing there the two boys looked at the cigarette with great reverence. It was the symbol of their burgeoning manhood. They thought of emulating cool Hollywood icons, Steve McQueen, James Dean, Paul Newman, or Marlon Brando with a cigarette hanging from their lips._

_“What if we get caught, Jamie? Our Das will kill us.” Second thoughts raced through Ian’s mind wanting to forget the whole idea._

_“Nah, we’re safe here. They’re in the fields and willna be back for a few hours,” he grinned.  “Ye watched yer faither smokin’ one. So, how do we do it?”_

_Sighing, he acquiesced to the plan. “He does something like this.” Ian placed the cigarette in his mouth, letting it dangle trying to look ‘cool’. Instead, he looked like a bird with a worm drooping from its beak.  He struck the match and the smell of sulfur floated about the barn. The flame ignited the end turning the tip red and glowing. He took a tentative inhale causing the paper to blacken. The fragrant scent of burning tobacco lifted and borne upon the air current. He choked, coughed, and his eyes began to water. His wame twisted and turned with the collywobbles._

_“‘Tis good,” he exclaimed lying, not wanting to look unmanly._

_“Ye try.”_

_Jamie dubiously scrutinized his friend/brother. “Ye dinna look so good.” He took the cigarette afraid to look the coward, took a deep inhale, held his breath, eyes bulging wide, and expelled the blue-grey smoke in one giant cough. He continued to cough, sputter, gag, and felt the bile rise to his throat._

_“I dinna ken why anyone would wanna tae do this! It tastes nasty, burns my throat and makes me wanna puke.”_

_At that moment, the laddies heard the return of their fathers from the fields._

_They looked at each other with abject horror on their faces, knowing they would soon be caught._

_“Damn it, Jamie. I thought ye said they would be gone for a while.” Ian grabbed the cigarette threw it down trying to stomp on it but did not see where it had dropped._

_“He told me they would be gone for about an hour or two! They must have finished early.”_

_They ran to the barn door just in time to see their fathers cresting the hill._

_“Did ye put it out?”_

_“I dinna ken. I think so. It got buried in the hay.”_

_“Jamie, lad where are ye? Have ye finished yer chores?” Brian Fraser called out in his deep rumbling voice._

_“Och, Brian, ye ken they’re probably off on some mischief.” Auld John chuckled. “Ye ken what they’re...what’s that smell? Like something’s burning.” He raised his long straight nose in the air and began to sniff.  His eyes drifted toward the barn. “FIRE!!!!”_

_All the heads swiveled toward the barn. It was on fire._

_“Christ,” Jamie exclaimed looking at the back of the barn where they had just been. “Ian get water, I’ll get the horses out. NOW.”_

_Ian nodded his head and ran hell-for-leather to find the hose to drag it into the barn._

_The horses were stamping, snorting, large heads tossing in agitation, eyes wide rolling wildly in their sockets while trying to break free from their stalls._

_Donas, the massive ill-tempered black, gnashed his teeth._

_“Sin, na biodh eagal ort a-nis. Tha mi an seo.”_

_Jamie took his shirt off threw it over the head of the black leading him out of the stall. He ran back leading the other two horses to safety._

_Ian had returned with the hose dousing the fire putting it out._

_Their fathers had arrived breathless from running to find everything under control._

_“Care tae explain this?!”_

_Squaring his shoulders, standing to his full height and taking a deep breath (while commending his soul to God), Jamie told the truth taking the full blame. “I talked Ian into taking one of his Da’s cigarettes. The blame for everything should rest on me. I’m sorry Da.”_

_“Ye canna take the whole blame. I had a part in this also. ‘Tis my fault as much as his. I’m sorry too Da.”_

_Jamie stood with his hands clasped in front of him awaiting judgment and punishment to be pronounced. Likewise, Ian stood straight, hands at his side, ready to hear his sentence like a convict before a judge._

_“Bairn, get ye tae the rail. Brian’s hands went to unbuckle his belt._

_“Both of ye.” Auld John said in a tone that would brook no argument._

_“No. Sir.”_

_“Defiant too, I see. Whatever has gotten into that thick skull of yers, son? Are ye testing me?” Brian asked his face red with fury._

_“No, sir. I am no’ testing ye. I just think that I should be punished as a man, no’ as a boy. I have admitted my wrongdoing, seen the error of it, and willing tae take my punishment as a man would, sir.”_

_“Oh, ye think ye are a man now? Would a man be as careless and start such a fire, hmm? I think no’. Over tae the fence and let’s get on with it.”_

_“No, Da. Ye need tae punish me as a man, no’ as a boy.”_

_The two fathers walked away from the boys to confer with each other._

_“Man!” Brian snorted sarcastically. “I’ll gie ye a chance tae prove yer a man. As a man, ye should choose yer own punishment. But, I warn ye, if it is not serious enough ye will be over that fence faster than a thought going between a lad and a lass.”_

_This was an unexpected turn of events._

_Jamie and Ian also went to consult with each other and came back with a plan._

_Jamie cleared his throat then began, “We have caused considerable damage tae the barn, so we thought we could repair whatever was destroyed in the fire on our free-time after school and weekends. We’ll clean out the old storage shed tae make room for the horses tae stay until the barn is repaired and we’ll take care of the horses, feeding, watering, grooming them, and mucking out the shed. In addition to our regular chores.”_

_“Ye ken that means ye have to give up yer after-school activities and sports.”_

_“Aye, Da we ken. We want tae prove we are responsible for our actions and make amends. We’ll explain to coach why we canna participate.”_

_The two young men stood patiently awaiting the acceptance or rejection of their proposed punishment._

_Their fathers looked at each other and smiled._

_“Get ye gone, lad. Tell your sister that four men are hungry for their supper.”_

Jamie turned to look at his Sassenach after telling her this tale.

"Strange, the things you remember. The people, the places, the moments in time burned into your heart forever, while others fade into the mist. I've always known I would live a life different from other men. When I was a lad, I saw no path to take in front of me. I simply took a step and then another. Moving ever forward, ever onward. Rushing towards someplace, I kent not where. Then one day, I turned around and looked back. I realized that each step I'd taken was a choice. To go left, to go right, to go forward, or maybe no’ go at all. Every day, every man has to make a choice between right and wrong, between love and hate, and even between life and death. And the sum of those choices becomes your life. The day I realized that I became a man.”

There was a faraway look on his sweet face, seeing memories of a time long gone.

“My Da was a strict man, but fair. That day I saw him bend and it made me mindful of what it meant to be a man. A man is one who cares for his family, his community, his friends, his land. He takes responsibility for his actions every day of his life. From that day, I kent I wanted to be just like him. I took things more serious like after that day.”

Jamie paused in telling his story drawing Claire to him gathering the strength to continue from her nearness.

“It...It was after my parents and Willie deaths that I decided to become a doctor.  I thought I should do something to help other people, ye ken. Since my heart was broken, I thought I would become a heart surgeon so I could fix other people’s broken hearts and give them a second chance. Does this make sense tae ye, Claire?”

“Perfect sense.”

His hands went to her waist, pulling her even closer to him anchoring himself to her. He rested his chin on the top of her wooly cap. “Do ye think me becoming a doctor and helping people is what my Mam meant about doing something important that would affect a lot of people?”

“I don’t know if she knew you would become a doctor, Jamie but you help so many people because you are. That is something important. The one thing that I do know is she would be so proud of you.” 

“Thank ye, _Sassenach_ , for listening.” He clasped her close to him feeling her love permeate out into him warming him to the bone.

He kissed her tenderly on the lips then gave her a little push back looking into her warm amber eyes. 

“Enough about me. What about ye, my _Sassenach_ , what was it like growin’ up for ye?”

Claire reciprocated in kind.  Telling him of her  _Travels with Lamb_.  She laughed saying she always thought that maybe it should be the title of a book. Besides Lamb, there was Firouz, a manservant in her uncle’s employ. Far from being just a steward, Firouz became a beloved second uncle.

Her uncle undertook her education with Claire studying by lamplight each night. On her own, she learned enough of the local language and customs which allowed her to play with the village children. She also learned how to do many things not normally suited for a young lady of gentle birth, digging latrines, hauling water, building campfires, cataloging artifacts, and generally helping her uncle with his excavations.

The trio traveled the world together. India, Egypt, Peru, Mexico were by far the most frequented archeological sites. There once was a summer spent in Paris, while Lamb helped organize an exhibition at the Louvre.

“When I first went with my uncle I was five years old. Poor Firouz, he more or less became my nanny. I spent all my time with him whilst my uncle worked in the field.”

_“Come little one! We must hurry to the market before the Aljaddat buy everything.  If we do not get there soon, whatever is left will not even be fit for the dogs.”_

_The child’s legs were no match for the long graceful strides of the man. So, she simply gave up and sat down in the dirt road in her pretty pink dress, white pinafore, white ankle socks with lace trim, and black mary jane shoes. The dust and sand blew around her, covering her in a fine layer of dirt. Her face was gritty, and her curly hair a magnet for grim. The road traffic, braying donkeys and bleating goats, people on foot, children running amongst the animals and pedestrians, passed around her without so much as a glance. No one paid attention to the strange forlorn little girl sitting on the ground._

_The man continued to talk believing that the child remained at his side. He stopped when she did not answer him and froze. He looked around and she was gone. Where did she go? Firouz, fearing the worst, began to run quickly retracing his steps only to find her sitting waif-like in the road. He ran to her picked her up cradling her to him. He ran his hands over her, checking her for any obvious sign of injury. Thank Allah, she was sound._

_“What were you doing, child? Why were you sitting there?”_

_“I couldn’t walk that fast.” She looked up at his face speaking in a tiny tremulous voice, “I thought you left me too.” Claire buried her face into the crook of his neck, sobbing._

_‘You are a foolish man, Firouz’, he berated himself. ‘She is so small, how could she keep up with you? And after everything that has happened to her? You must be more careful.’ He felt guilty for almost losing the Professor’s niece. But he was a bachelor in the service of a bachelor. What did he know of children, especially a little girl?_

_“Do not cry Aziz, I will never leave you.” He wiped her face with the sleeve of his tunic. “Let us go to the market, I will carry you.”_

_“My name is Claire, not Az...Azz”_

_“Aziz, little one. To me you are Aziz.”_

_“What does that mean, Aziz?”_

_“It means beloved.” He wiped the tears from her cheeks and smiled._

_“Come, let us go, before there is nothing left, only food not even fit for the dogs.”_

_Claire, snuggled against him and gave a little giggle._

_Five Years Later -_

_“Come onnnn, Uncle Firouz, what is taking you so loooong?” Claire now age ten, ran ahead of her Uncle. She was indistinguishable from the other street urchins, dressed in loose white gallabya decorated with colorful embroidery and a floppy hat on her head. The sun had kissed her once porcelain skin turning it a warm golden brown. Her hair glowed with strands of gold, copper, and auburn scattering amid her dark brown curls. The child was thriving and happy, Firouz thought and was pleased. Although, there were moments when he could still see terrible sadness in those remarkable topaz eyes._

_Claire ran back to her Uncle grabbed his hand pulling him toward the market. “Uncle Firouz if we don’t hurry then the Aljaddat will buy the best and ...”_

_“We will get what is not fit even for the dogs,” he said with a laugh. “You do pay attention, Aziz.”_

_Claire’s shining eyes looked up at him with affection, “Yes, Uncle I do.”_

_Claire ran amongst the stalls picking, choosing, and bargaining just as her Uncle had taught her. It amused him to watch her haggle, hands on her hips, pretending that the quality of the merchandise was poor and negotiating for a better price. She was an amazing child this child of his heart._

_After purchasing what they needed, they walked to a cafe where her guardian would sit and take coffee with a friend._

_“You have done well Aziz and earned a treat.” He reached into a pocket gave her some coins. “Go and buy yourself something. But do not be long, we must get back to the camp.” He touched her cheek tenderly, “Now shoo.”_

_To Claire, the bazaar was a magical place. The sights, the sounds, the smells that wafted around her enticed her to come nearer much as a moth dangerously circled close to a flame. All the tents, shops, and stalls were decorated with colorful pennants and banners, blue, red, yellow, green, offsetting the drab desert colors of neverending orange-yellow sand and dreary beige landscapes. Flags swayed gently in the breeze beckoning her forward like a finger curling in temptation. Many of the shopkeepers knew her by name and called to her hawking their wares._

_She didn’t know what to do with her few coins. Should she buy herself a treat of some candy or a sweet bun? Perhaps she should save it as Lamb’s birthday was near and she wanted to get him a little present._

_She wandered the maze of the marketplace, looking at this and that but finding nothing she wanted. Suddenly a gust of wind rose up around her carrying a spicy, herbal smell on the air that she had never noticed before. The aroma pulled at her with an almost mystical proportion weaving around her transporting her to it. She followed the fragrance to a tent where a woman was busy grinding something. She shyly crept forward watching the woman work._

_“Do you wish to watch, child?”_

_Claire nodded. “What are you doing?”_

_“I’m making medicines.”_

_“Why?”_

_“Because some people come to me for help when they are sick.”_

_“But there are doctors and hospitals for that.”_

_“Some people prefer the old ways, the more natural ways, and sometimes people cannot afford to go to doctors or hospitals. So, they come to me.”_

_Inching closer, she peered into the bowl. She wrinkled her nose at the unfamiliar odor._

_“These are coriander seeds.”_

_“What’s it for?”_

_“It can be used for many things. Like relieving pain and stiffness in joints, headaches, stomach aches, like when you eat too many sweets!” The woman tickled Claire’s belly and laughed broadly showing a number of missing teeth._

_“Would you like to try?”_

_Her head nodded vigorously._

_Pulling up a stool for Claire to kneel on, she began to show her how to grind and crush with a mortar and pestle. They laughed at some of the seeds escaping over the rim of the bowl._

_The sound of grinding and scraping filled the little enclosure. The healer showed her novice different herbs and spices explaining what each was used for and how to make tisanes and ointments with each._

_A great shadow darkened the entrance, “What are you doing with my niece, witch?” said a deep male voice brusquely._

_“I am not a witch!!” the woman spurted out angrily. “It is always the same. Women who have knowledge of healing are condemned as witches.”_

_Claire looked from her Uncle to her new friend in complete confusion. “Uncle, she was only showing…”_

_“Enough, Aziz, we must be going. It is getting late.” Firouz spoke more sharply than he had intended._

_“Yes, young one, it is late. You must go back with your Uncle.”_

_“Will I see you again?”_

_The woman looked at Firouz who scowled fiercely at her. “No, child, I will be gone by the morning.” Carefully, so as not to be seen, she slipped a small pouch into Claire’s hand and whispered, “Something to remember me by. Do not show it to anyone. It will help you when you heal.”_

_Claire gave a little nod, slipped it into a pocket murmuring thank you._

_“We are leaving Aziz. Come.” Firouz took her small hand in his large one guiding her out of the shelter._

_“Why were you so upset, Uncle? She was just teaching me her ways of healing. It was interesting.”_

_“Aziz, women like her are often looked upon as witches. The villagers might think of you in the same way if they see you with her. It could only bring trouble for you if they do. I only want to protect you, my precious girl,” he said with a sad smile._

_That night Claire spoke with her Uncle Lamb about what had happened.  He thought it all stuff and nonsense as he did not share the villagers’ superstitions._

_“Claire, the most important thing you need to learn, even though we do not share their beliefs, it is to respect them.”_

_“Even if their beliefs are wrong, Uncle?”_

_“Even if they are wrong. You must remember, my heart, that these people have never been more than a day’s ride away from where they were born. They live in small villages, and among the oases.  They don’t know anything else other than the superstitions and beliefs that have been passed down over the centuries. It is hard to blame them as they don’t know any better or different._

_“But shouldn’t we tell them it’s wrong?”_

_Lamb considered for a moment what to say, “My precious girl, you have a kind heart, this I know and you would like to help people, but changing long-held beliefs takes a very, very long time to take place. It can happen, but not as quickly as you or I would like. Have faith that someday it will come about.”_

_“That was the lady’s name...Iman. She told me it means to be faithful.”_

_He pulled his niece onto his lap, cuddling her close to his heart. “I love you my Claire, you are my heart’s own child.” He kissed the top of her curly head._

_Lamb sat in quiet contemplation before speaking again._

_“Firouz, I think we should encourage Claire’s interest in healing.  What do you say?”_

_“As you wish, Professor.”_

_“There is one proviso, my dear girl, and that is if Firouz or I think you should not go to visit one of these healers, you will obey our instructions.” Lamb raised an inquiring eyebrow to her._

_“I’ll listen to you and Uncle Firouz. I promise. Thank you, Uncles.” Claire snuggled into Lamb’s chest, feeling safe and loved.  
_

“As we traveled to different countries, I spent time with the local  _healer, herbalists, shaman, or curanderos_  learning how they healed the sick and what herbs they used. I think that Iman set me on my path to becoming a healer, a doctor that afternoon.”

“I have one question for ye _Sassenach_ , what was in the pouch?”

“Ah, well there was dried mint and thyme leaves, coriander seeds, and a small uncut, unpolished sapphire. Sapphires help to channel healing energy from one person to another.  Very essential for any healer to have, wouldn’t you say. I kept the pouch in memory of Iman, my first medical teacher. The herbs are all dust now, but the sapphire is still there.”

“Yer a verra fine doctor,  _Sassenach_. Iman would be proud.”

Claire kept her arms wrapped around her Scot, holding him close, resting her head on his chest.

“Thank you, Jamie, for always being there for me.” Standing on her toes she reached up and tenderly kiss him.  She relaxed into his embrace feeling loved and cared for.

They stood holding each other within the sanctuary of their cocoon enjoying the warm feelings from sharing parts of their life story with each other. 

Their heads rose listening to the stramash slowly headed their way.  A voice carried on the swell of the air currents. It sounded like a woman scolding someone, scolding, a child. The voice sounded familiar. It carried a certain lilt to it. Scottish. 

“Rabbie, ye wee gomeral! Dinna stick yer brother’s head in the snow, aye. He canna breathe in there.”  

The figures drew closer, a man and a woman, an elderly couple. Accompanying them were two children, two boys and rambunctious ones at that. Always one with a good eye for detail, Jamie was certain he had met the couple before. The man had a jaunty set to his cap, a commanding height, and the spectacles were placed on the tip of his nose. The woman also was tall, but not as tall as the man, grey hair, and had a certain fullness of figure, grandmother-like. 

_“Sassenach,_  ‘tis Harry and Maizie from the plane. I dinna think we would ever see them again,” he said a wide smile playing across his sweet mouth.

 Jamie raised his arm waving it furiously loudly calling out, “ _mo charaid_.”

***********

Oh, Jamie! I saw it happen. Those little buggers. It was a drive-by snowballing. They ran off that way.  --  I adapted this from the movie  _Mrs. Doubtfire_  and the drive-by fruiting. RIP Robin Williams

Sin, na biodh eagal ort a-nis. Tha mi an seo  -- Hush, don’t be afraid. I am here now.

Aljaddat   --  Grandmothers

Aziz  --  Beloved

Gallabya  --   is a traditional Egyptian garment native to the Nile Valley.

Iman  --  to be faithful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.
> 
> We are nearing the end of this story. I am wondering if after I finish it should I continue with a Part II? Would you all be interested in continuing to read about these two or should I move on to something else? Your opinion matters to me. So, please leave a comment and let me know how you feel about continuing this story.
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. Chapter 11 is in the works. I don’t know when it will get done, but as soon as it is, I will post.
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter. Thank you for reading.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/


	11. Redux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.
> 
> Chapter 11 brings back old friends and someone oft-spoken of but never seen.
> 
> And we have a red dress causing problems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to thank @curlsgetdemgurls for putting up with me, encouraging me, and being the best beta around. I mean that. Without her, this story would not exist.

“Rabbie, ye wee _gomeral!_ Dinna stick yer brother’s head in the snow, aye. He canna breathe in there.” 

Rabbie MacLennan was busy shoving his brother Davey’s head deeper into a snowbank. At his grandmother’s reprimand, he let go and ran off cackling to himself.

There must be something wrong with that boy, she thought. She hoped she wouldn’t see him on one of those Most Wanted Shows when he grew up.

Davey freed himself from his frozen entombment and found himself covered head to toe in snow looking rather like a scrawny snowman. Shaking himself like a dog, he removed much of the fine flakes sticking to his hat, hair, face, and clothes. 

“Wait for me,” the lad called racing after his brother to see what other devilry they could stir up.

Maizie gave a long-suffering look toward her husband that said: _Do something_.

Harry, in the language of the long-married, returned the look, asking:  _Like what?_

She glared back at him,  _I dinna ken. They’re your grandsons, do something._

Jamie and Claire observed the mayhem headed their way. They turned and looked at each other smiling.

“Lass, it’s Harry and Maizie. I dinna think we would ever see them again.”

Jamie raised his arm w _aving_  it furiously loudly calling out _, “mo charaid.”_

 _“_ Come along _a nighean,_ ” he said laughing and pulled her along. He moved toward the elderly couple with a decided determination.

Harry looked up recognizing their acquaintances from the plane, took off his cap and began waving it in his own brand of frenetic gesticulations calling out, “Hallo.”  

“Ye see who it ‘tis, my love? ‘Tis the lad from the plane with his lass,” he said with a broad smile plastered across his face.

Smiling she began to wave as well. “So ‘tis. They look happy, do they no’?”

“Aye, they do.”

The men reached each other and began the time-honored male ritual greeting composed of handshakes, hugging, and back pounding.

Observing this male disposition, it occurred to Claire that this habit of pummeling each other in a form of welcome might be the reason that men were impervious to superficial pain.

The ladies, however, greeted each other more genteelly, clasping each other’s hands, kissing a cheek, and exchanging pleasantries. 

Of course, it was just like men to wander off in pursuit of their own conversations while leaving the women to mind the store. This entailed clearing the snow off a bench for them to sit and keep a watchful eye on the two rapscallions. Bloody men.

“How goes it, lad? Ye look happy and I might add so does the lass.” Harry cast a glance back toward Claire.

If it were possible, Jamie’s cold-reddened cheeks would have turned scarlet.

“We, ah, talked, and found the truth between us. She, um, weel, she loves me as I do her. So, we are together,” he smiled so brightly it would have rivaled the sun. “I still dinna ken how ye were so certain about such things.”

“Laddie, it is as plain as the nose on yer face.  A blind man could see that ye love each other and belong together. ‘Twas not hard at all.  All ye two needed was a push in the right direction.”

Harry turned his eyes to gaze intently upon Jamie. His expression hardening like a stern schoolmaster about to chastise an errant student.

“Remember lad, she is a braw lassie, strong, capable, independent. Dinna underestimate her. But, she can be very fragile, delicate, and her heart, once given, can be easily broken. Take care of her, love her rightly and if ye do sae she will be yers forever.”

“Aye, sir I will. Ye can trust me.”

A snowball whizzed by Harry’s hat, missing it by a fraction of an inch. He looked up and saw his grandson Rabbie hanging upside down, monkey-like from a tree. His younger brother stood below with a stockpile of frozen missiles.

“Oi, ye wee scoundrels, what are ye about then?”  Harry stormed toward the tree where the lads were. Jamie keeping pace brought up the rear as reinforcement.

Davey hopped up and down trying to get his brother’s attention wanting him to pull him up into the tree and away from his Grandda’s grasp. 

“Jump Davey, jump.” 

Rabbie extended his hand as far as he could and with one final long stretch, he just managed to grasp his brother’s hand. With a mighty pull, he brought Davey up and out of reach of his grandsire.  The lads sat swinging their legs back and forth from their high perch enjoying the view of their frustrated and angry grandfather below.

“Do ye want them down?”

Harry snorted, “I do.”

“Now listen here, lads.  Either ye come down or I come up. And ye willna like it if I do.”

“Yer auld. Ye canna climb up trees,” said Rabbie with a smirk on his face.

“Aye, I can. I climb trees, mountains, and rock walls.”

“Are ye  _Spideyman_  then?” asked wee Davey with a hopeful look on his face.

“Nay, but I ken him.”

“Ye do???!!!” The little boy’s eyes widened becoming positively goggle-eyed. 

“Aye, he came to the hospital where I work to visit with the sick bairns. He told me all his secrets for climbing. If ye come down, I’ll tell ye.”

Davey looked awestruck.  Rabbie looked at Jamie with skepticism.

“I dinna believe ye,” he said eyes narrowed to slits and glared.

“I have pictures of _Spider-Man_  and me. He taught me some of his spidey moves.  I have a video too if ye want to see it.”

Davey was beside himself with excitement. Rabbie, however, more of a doubting Thomas required proof. The two laddies were busy trying to scramble down the tree. Rabbie older and bigger pushed his way forward wanting to be first. 

Davey had another idea.  He hung down from the branch by his fingertips, “Catch me, Grandda,” and let go dropping five feet straight down. 

Harry ran forward hoping he would be in time to catch the rascal and not drop him. Jamie got there before Harry, opened his arms and caught the boy in the nick of time, saving him from serious injury. 

“Lad, do ye no’ ken that ye weigh as much as a good draft horse when ye fall from that height? Ye nearly broke my back.”

The wean laughed, “Can I see the pictures now, please?”

He set the child down, pulled out his phone and scrolled through the pictures. The lads were enamored by them and began acting out the poses they saw.

Jamie Fraser had convinced a friend to dress up as  _Spider-Man_  and come to entertain the children. He posed, signed autographs, took pictures, and gave out little gifts. At the end of the wee party, a spectacular  _Spider-Man_  cake was rolled out and happily and messily consumed by all.

Each year Dr. Fraser planned a different event for the children.  Wherever he worked or trained he would manage to beg or borrow, cajole or arm-twist enough money to plan a wee party for the weans. All done in memory of his brother Willie. The children broke his heart.  For some, the hospital was their home, for others they would never leave it.  Some of the lucky ones would get well enough to live their lives but not without experiencing more than any child should have to.

Claire and Maizie sat on the bench talking of this and that while keeping a watchful eye on their men.

“Are ye happy then, lass?”

Claire looked up first to Jamie then to Maizie. 

“Yes, very happy.  Happier than I have been in a long time. Probably happier than I have ever been in my whole life.”

“Aye, I thought so. I can see it in the way ye look at him. And in the way he looks at ye,” she chuckled softly.

“Yer man, he is a Highlander, is he no’?”

“Yes, why do you ask?”

“Weel, they are proud men, strong of body and spirit, honorable to be sure, disciplined, loyal, courageous, patient and honest. Can ye handle a man like that lass? He can and will be a handful at times.” She looked at Claire searching her face for the truth. “Oh, and did I mention stubborn? Once they have made up their minds, there is no turning them back.”

“How do you know all this?”

“My man is a Highlander too. It has been a bonnie life with him, never dull,” she chuckled. “I wouldna change him or the life I had with him for anything. He has been a challenge at times, but I set him straight,” Maizie said with a wink.

“Oh, and one more thing lass, if ye dinna kent it yet. They have hearty appetites in bed!”

Claire opened her mouth to say something, thought better of it and shut it. She felt the heat of her embarrassment rising up her face.

“I see ye ken what I say is true,” she laughed heartily. 

“Well I…ah, well, mmm,  _damn_.” Claire flushed a lovely shade of pink.

“Enjoy his love for ye lass. ‘Tis a blessing. I still do,” she said with a lascivious smile.

She looked up at the sky, seeing that the sun had begun to lower, checked the time on her watch. 

“‘Tis late. I need to get my lads home, dry and fed.”

“Harry! Harry! Get the lads, ‘tis time we were going home.”

The boys and the men’s heads snapped up at the words going home.  

“ _A leannan_ ,” he said in his most silky voice, “the lads are having such a good time. Might we be able to stay a little longer?”  All four members of the male contingent shook their heads in unanimous agreement to this request.

“Ye can have ten more minutes, then we must leave. ‘Twill be getting dark soon,” Maizie said with a shiver.

Claire had been watching Jaime play with the boys, roughhousing, laughing, throwing snowballs at each other, helping to build a snowman, and generally acting like one of the boys. Her hands went reflexively to her belly. He was meant to be a father, she thought. She worried if she couldn’t give that gift to him would he hate her? Worse yet, would he leave her?

“Dinna fash, lass. Yer time will come too,” she observed Claire’s hands protectively on her abdomen.

 “I wasn’t able to before with, with my ex-husband.”

“If he’s yer ex, then perhaps it was for the best. Looking at yer lad there, I think things will be different this time.”

“I hope you’re right,” she said with a hopeful look on her face.

Looking toward the men hard at work making the most of the last few minutes of playtime, Maizie called out, “Come along lads, ‘tis time for our suppers.” 

The male heads rose up at the mention of food.

They bid farewell to each other, repeating the ceremonial handshakes, hugs, and backslaps. The boys were counseled to listen to their Mam, Da, Grannie, and Grandda, eat their vegetables as Jamie would be seeing  _Spider-Man_  again when he got back to Scotland. Rabbie and Davey nodded their heads solemnly and promised to be on their best behavior and  _(Blah!)_ to eat their veggies too. 

The women embraced, Claire, thanking Maizie for all her advice. She kissed her cheek softly and bid her goodbye.

“Come along  _Spider-Man,_  let’s get you back to the hotel and out of those wet clothes, shall we hmm?”

“Will ye help me out of my wet clothes then, _mo ghràdh_? I’m so cold and wet that I think my cock will snap off.”

“That my dear would be a catastrophe,” Claire said with a smirk.

Jamie began to speak, instead, he wrinkled his nose, squeezed his eyes together, and let out a volley of sneezes. He began to sniffle. 

“Hmm, things seem more serious than I thought. Let’s get you back to the hotel and warm you up.”

“Aye, sounds like a good idea.  Will ye warm me then, Claire?” There was a twinkle in his eyes as Jamie waggled his eyebrows at her.

“Men!” she snickered.

**********

They lay nestled together in the twilight of sleep, neither fully awake nor fully asleep. Warm. Complete. Filled with love. His arms enclosed her.  One hand cupping her breast while the other drew around her waist bringing her closer. A finger idly traced the slope of her breast coming to rest on a nipple. Stroking it lightly, it came alive under his touch hardening, rounding, wanting. Her arse settled fully in his groin wanting to eliminate any space between them.

“Does it ever stop, the wanting you? Even when I’ve just left ye. I want you so much my chest feels tight and my fingers ache with wanting to touch ye again.” 

She wiggled closer feeling the effects of her movements against him. 

“I want you too, always,” she mumbled sleepily.

His lips pressed soft tender kisses to her neck and felt her quiver.

He turned her onto her back raining a succession of heated kisses along her chin, chest, down the hollow between her breasts.

“ _Mo nighean donn_ , I hunger for ye.”

He blazed passionate kisses down her body paying homage to her.

Reaching her navel, a distant grumbling sounded from within the depths of her abdomen.

Jamie startled, “ _Sassenach_ , yer making wee noises, but no’ the ones I was hoping for.”

“Hmmm, seems I’m famished.”

“For food?”

“Mmhm. It’s been a long time since breakfast and we did have a busy afternoon.”

 “Aye, we did.” He rested his head on her belly. “Would ye like me to order room service or would ye like to go to the restaurant?” He hoped she’d pick room service.

“Well, I bought a new dress to wear for the last dinner at the conference. It would be a shame to not get to wear it.”

“Alright then, lass, the restaurant it is, but first I must have my dessert.”

********

Jamie sat on the end of the bed showered, shaved, and dressed in his charcoal grey suit, white shirt, and blue tie.  He hummed a rhythmless tune while his foot tapped in a futile attempt to keep time. Taking out his phone, he idly scrolled through the news, and his social media accounts watching the videos of dogs and cats engaged in ridiculous antics.

His eyes drifted back toward the closed bathroom door wondering what was taking Claire so long. To save time they had showered together. He had soaped her up, sliding his hands over her slippery body becoming captivated with each curve, and rounded area of her body.  Ah Dhia, that sweet fat arse of hers. He would never tire of fondling it. And what she did to him. Lathering him, she stroked him with her soft wee hand turning his legs to jello. Christ, the lass knew just how to… His pants were becoming uncomfortable. He stood up adjusted himself and walked to the bathroom door.

“Claire, are ye alright, lass?”

“I just need another few minutes, Jamie.”

She’s been in there for at least a half-hour. What takes women so long to get dressed?

He walked to the large window and watched the lights of Boston twinkle like fireflies on a warm summer’s night.

He heard the sound of the bathroom door open and Claire stepped out.

She was a vision in red. The dress was floor-length, long-sleeved with a high neckline. It hugged every curve of her body in a sensual way. Her hair was up with tiny tendrils draping around her face and neck. Her makeup lightly done except for the red lipstick accentuating the bow of her lips.

“Do you like it?”

He mouth opened and he gaped at her. His eyes sweeping over the sweet long lines of her body. 

Her walk was sultry. Her hips swayed. She exuded sexuality. Jamie placed his hands on the swell of her hips. He swallowed, “Yer beautiful,  _mo nighean donn_.” She was mesmerizing. He could not wait to have her on his arm walking through the hotel and into the restaurant, the envy of every man there.

 She lightly pressed her mouth on him leaving a trace of her scarlet kiss on his lips. Seductively she traced her thumb across his mouth erasing the crimson mark. 

“Claire, I… ”

She gave him a knowing smile, “Let’s go then.”

She turned to reach for her clutch and then he saw it. The dress was backless. The gown laid her bare from the nape of her neck to just above her gluteal cleft exposing the dimples of Venus on her back. It hugged her buttocks emphasizing the roundness, the fullness of her.

“ _Sassenach!_  Yer no’ going downstairs like that are ye? Christ woman, I can see clear down yer arse.”

“No, you can’t. I had the sales girl take a video of me moving in all different directions in it and you can’t see anything. I checked. Want to see?” She said smugly.

He didn’t want to see and he didn’t want any other man to see either. The woman would be the death of him.

Deciding to use another tactic, he inquired, “Won’t ye be cold then?  Would ye want my jacket, lass?”

“Oh, you’re right, I forgot my wrap.” Walking over to the garment bag she took out a matching stole and wrapped it around herself.

“Better?” she asked batting her eyelashes at him.

“No! It only covers half of ye. Claire, ye canna go out like this,” he sputtered.

“Hmm, I see it’s doubled.” She gave it a little shake to open it completely. She swirled the silken fabric around her back like a matador twirling his red cape in front of a snorting raging bull.

“Is it better now?”

The edge grazed the top of her natal cleft.  Any movement she would make exposed her.

“Aye, ‘tis better,” he conceded, “but no’ by much.”  

Seeing that Claire would not give up on going to the restaurant wearing that, that dress Jamie conceded defeat. 

“My  _Lady_ , may I have the honor of escorting ye to dinner?” He extended his arm offering it to her to take.

“I would be honored, my _Laird._ ” She reached out placing her dainty hand in the crook of his elbow feeling him draw her close to him.

He hoped they would make it through dinner without incident.

**************

Brian Fraser looked at his youngest son, drooping and moping about over some lass who would not give the lad the time of day. To make matters worse, Jamie had seen the girl kissing another boy in a remote part of the school library.  _“Laddie, if the lass is no’ interested in ye, then mayhap she is not the one for ye.  Pining away for her will no’ help.  Remember, be careful about what ye wish for, because ye may just get it. When ye find the right woman to love, ye will just ken it.”_

Jamie Fraser got just what he had hoped for.  Male heads turned as they walked into the restaurant.  He was the envy of every man there and he didn’t like it. In truth, what he didn’t like was the way men looked at Claire. Some looked at her with a straightforward appreciation of her beauty while others leered at her with outright lust on their faces. It roused his jealousy and need to protect her. His eyes, a search beacon, swept across the sea of men on guard for any potential threat to her or her virtue. Being in love with Claire Beauchamp would not be easy. 

Jamie so deep in his need to be on guard that he missed the way Claire looked at him. She was fully aware of how the women looked at him. He was beautiful. That fiery mane with soft curls at the nape, ocean blue eyes that you could drown in, broad back, lean muscular body, and his hands. Ahh, his hands. Hands that held her and played her body like a fine instrument. Stroking it, coaxing it making it crescendo. He is perfect in every way.  And yet, he doesn’t know it.

The  _maî·tre d'hô·tel_  seated them in a secluded area of the restaurant thanks to the generous bribe, er um, tip Jamie gave the man.

Finally, he felt he could relax. They were seated in at a cozy table for two away from the general traffic of the hotel. 

The restaurant  _L’Orchidée_  was beautifully appointed. White and violet linens dressed the table while a napkin folded into the shape of a flower sat upon a gold charger awaiting their dinner choice. Candlelight created an intimate mood. Crystal goblets and wine glasses sparkled as they waited to be filled.

The Sommelier appeared suggesting wines to pair with their dinner. Jamie fluently speaking French ordered for them.

“Are ye happy, _mo ghràdh_? I mean that we are together? Do I make ye happy?” He reached over picked up her hand and began to rub his thumb across her knuckles.

“Happier than I have ever been in my whole life. Do I make you happy?” she asked shyly.

 He interlaced their fingers together, “Sae happy.” He hesitated for the briefest of moments then continued, “My heart has been yours since first we met. In truth, you hold my soul in your hands. I am yours, my  _Sassenach_ , body, and soul forever.”

The waiter came to serving their dinner. A lovely glazed salmon with a tomato romesco seasoned with garlic, almonds and spices, heirloom carrots and wild rice for Jamie. Claire chose roast chicken rich with a sauce of garlic, herbs, and butter, potato mille-feuille, summer squash with wild mushrooms.  The Sommelier appeared pouring their wine selections and bid them  _bon appétit_.

They ate and drank, savoring their meal as much as each other’s company. They talked, laughed, touched, cast shy glances at each other, acting as lovers do.

Jamie’s other vice, besides whisky and Claire, was chocolate. A dessert of a triple chocolate mousse cake accompanied by a froth of whipped cream flavored with Frangelico and a scattering of crushed hazelnuts completed their meal. He insisted on feeding her. He cut off a piece of cake swirled it in the flavored cream offering it to her. She opened her mouth accepting the sweet morsel. Her mouth became coated with the intense taste of dark chocolate and fatty hazelnut whipped cream. An unctuous drop lingered on her lips. His finger swept across her mouth removing the offending particle.  Her pink tongue peeked out and licked the tidbit from his finger.

He brought her hand to his mouth pressed a tender kiss to the palm of her hand. His breath warm and moist on her skin making her quiver and her heart flutter. 

“ _Mo chridhe_ ,” he whispered huskily. “I need ye, Claire. I need ye sae bad.” He licked his lips looking at her with darkened wanting eyes.

Jamie was intent on his love and did not see the man approach.

“Hello, Claire,” said a male voice with a cultured English accent.

Claire felt ice run up and down her spine. She knew that voice all too well.

She set her lips in a taut grim line. “Hello, Frank.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. 
> 
> Chapter 12 is in the works. It is at the point of revision then sending it to my beta. I couldn't leave you all hanging for too long. There will be fireworks, I assure you.
> 
> Just an FYI, on 8/14, I am going into the hospital for a second cardiac procedure in a 10 month period. The last time it took 6 hrs and I was under general anesthesia that whole time. I don't do well with anesthesia. I get really, really, really stupid after. So as soon as the brains clear up again, I will revise. (I know, just take care of yourself.) I will I promise. Just letting you all know.
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter. Thank you for reading.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/


	12. At The Crossroads: A Deal With The Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.  
> PLEASE READ THE TAGS! THEY HAVE CHANGED. This chapter is very different than what I usually write. If you find any of the subjects disturbing, PLEASE DO NOT READ!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 12 -  
> Finds a confrontation with Frank. A brief glimpse of Claire's married life with Frank. Frank gets handsy. Jamie to the rescue. A deal is made. 
> 
> This time I have 3 very special persons to thank for their beta skills, Julesbeauchamp, smashing-tea-cups, and scubalass. Scubalass called me out on several points of this chapter. She truly was a "dog with a bone." Because of her questions, I think the story is vastly improved. So thanks to her for her insight.

“What the hell are you doing here, Frank?” Claire snarled her nostrils flaring.

“Why Claire, dear, what does it look like I’m doing? I’m having dinner. What do you think I’m doing here?” he said mockingly.

She snorted with derision. “With whom? Another one of your students? Taking advantage of some poor misguided girl?”

“Poor and misguided girl, no.  One of my doctoral candidates, yes. We were discussing the best methodology to use in her dissertation. Sandy is a very bright girl.”

Jamie’s head spun from Claire to Frank. _The fucking sassenach bastard!_ Shite, he dropped his guard just for a moment and look at what happened. He needed to put an end to this now. He needed to get Claire away from him.

Frank turned from Claire giving Jamie a cold stare, “You are remiss in your manners pet, you have yet to introduce me to your dinner companion.”

“Don’t call me that!” There was a marked note of threat in her voice.

Standing to his full impressive height, Jamie insinuated himself between the Englishman and his  _Sassenach_ effectively shielding her with his body. 

Frank briefly staggered leaning into Jamie for balance as he tried to get closer to Claire. That would prove to be an impossibility. An impenetrable mountain-sized man stood guard over her preventing even the meerest of glimpses of her.

Christ, the man stank like a distillery, his eyes were glassy, tie askew, and his balance impaired.  Jamie wondered how much the man already had to drink. 

He also looked like a man with a chip on his shoulder. A man angry at the world. 

His assumed a protective mode, body taut, jaw clenched, hands fisted at his side, ready to keep her safe.  “Dr. James Fraser, Dr. Beauchamp’s partner,” his voice husky as he tersely introduced himself.

There was no pretense of civility, no offer of handshakes made. The men took on the aspect of two dogs sniffing each other reading to fight. Jamie’s posture defensive while Frank’s became increasingly aggressive. 

“Now if ye will excuse us, we were just getting ready to leave,” Jamie said gruffly and offered his hand to Claire. “Come, lass ‘tis time we leave. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

She took the proffered hand to get up. As she leaned over to reach for her purse, the wrap dropped exposing her whole back.

“Oh, ho! I think this is more than two colleagues simply having dinner together. You do look ravishing my dear,” Frank’s eyes raked over Claire’s body lasciviously. A body that was once his and now it belonged to…? His eyes then went to Jamie’s left hand observing the absence of a wedding ring.  He looked at the Scot with contempt, how dare he claim something that was once his?

Her cheeks flushed crimson. What did it matter what he thought or what he thought he knew. The man was of no consequence to her anymore. And after all his liaisons past and present, who the hell was he to judge her?

Jamie helped adjust her shawl covering her once again. He knew that dress would be trouble.

He stood on the periphery of his limits struggling to control his anger.  He needed to hit something or better yet someone. But, he did not want to cause a scene in the restaurant in front of Claire. Christ, he wanted to wipe that lecherous look off the arsehole’s face.

“Are ye ready,  _Sassenach_?”  Jamie asked tenderly as he turned to walk toward the front of the restaurant wanting to sign for the bill and return to the sanctuary of their room.

“Yes, let’s go. It’s been a long day,” She sighed.

“I guess this is it then. This is goodbye, Claire.”

Claire ignored Frank wanting to not have anything further to do with him.  She turned and started to walk away. 

“Who the hell do you think you are, Beauchamp? Think you’re better than me? You and your uncle always acting like you were better than anyone else, especially me.  I’m talking to you, Claire,” he raised his voice causing the other patrons to turn and look. Frank grabbed Claire’s shoulder, spun her around to face him. She could feel his sweaty palm on her skin as he firmly seized her.  He leaned in close enabling her to smell his fetid alcoholic breath skim hotly across her cheek.

It was obvious that he was drunk.  The memories flooded back in a torrent. He often became hostile and threatening, even to the point of becoming physically abusive when he was deep in the drink. It had been years since she had seen him like this, morose and surly. 

_He had failed to make tenure and came home drunk. Of course, he blamed Lamb for his failures. He always did. Needless to say, she would be the one to pay the price. He demanded sex from her. “You like it rough, don’t you, darling,” as he dragged her up to the bedroom. Frank threw her against a wall tearing at her clothes. She fought back but he was too strong. Naturally, he apologized the next day. “So sorry, old girl. I was drunk…pressure from work…the stress…a man needs the comfort of his wife in times like this…it will never happen again.” Yeah, you got that right. It will never happen again. He kissed her bloodied lips before he left for work leaving in a chipper mood as if nothing had ever happened.  Rising from the bed, she went to her closet.  As she tugged her suitcase out of the closet, she dislodged a box that contained the love letters from his students. She took her few meager possessions and the box of letters. Battered and bruised, she left her home for what would be the last time heading for the safe haven she had with her Uncle. She never told anyone else other than Lamb what had happened. She never would._

She wanted to turn and leave just walk away from him now forgetting the whole ugly sordid mess that had been her time with Frank. But her loyalty to Lamb commanded her to stand her ground defending him against this pissant.

“ **DON’T. YOU. DARE**. Lamb loved you like his own son and you betrayed both of us. Let go of me this instant you fucking sod.” Claire growled trying to pull her shoulder out of his grasp, but his grip tightened. For a man well into his cups, he was quite strong.

“I betrayed you and your uncle?! How little you know,” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “He wouldn’t share his research with me, hmm. Yes,” his speech slurred and he swayed slightly. “He said I had to earn the right to have it. I thought he meant all I had to do was marry you. But I was mistaken,” he laughed nastily. “You were a cunt then, and you’re still a cunt now. That’s all you were good for was a good fuck.” Frank drew closer narrowing the gap between them. His open hand familiarly cupped the space between her thighs, a part of her body that he once intimately knew. He stroked, squeezed and kneaded her like she still belonged to him. “You like that don’t you, bitch.”

Claire gasped, crying out, “ **JAMIEEE**!” 

Jamie turned his head and realized that Claire failed to follow him. He saw that  _mac na galla_  grabbing and touching her in a way no man wants to see happen to his woman. 

“ **C L A I R E**!” he bellowed in a hoarse angry voice.  _Christ, would no one go to help the lass?_

Bystanders, diners, wait staff, were all stunned into inaction watching the tableau unfold around them not able to believe what their eyes told them.

With eyes narrowed dangerously, mouth grimly set, he pushed his way through the crowd recklessly. He must get to her. Waiters carrying heavily laden trays with dinners were knocked out of the way. Food flew about, dishes and silverware crashed to the floor, sending shards of china everywhere.

He watched Claire fighting and struggling with Frank. Taking her purse, she struck him about his head then clawed at his face. She kicked his ankle and stomped on his foot. 

_That’s it, lass, gie it to him._ He took pride in how braw she was.

Observing Jamie’s approach, Frank called out loudly, “Had a piece of this yet, Fraser? I’ll bet you have. She likes to fuck and she’s good at it too. If she didn’t become a doctor, she could have made a good living as a whore. Did she ever su..”

Frank never got to finish his sentence as his face became acutely acquainted with Jamie’s fist.

There was something quite satisfying about being able to hear and to feel the nasal cartilage crunch with the impact of his fist. He knew he broke it on the first blow. Blood splattered out of Randall’s nose and mouth. He struck him about the face and eyes. That eye would be swollen shut and black come morn.

He was outside of himself now no longer the kind and gentle giant but a man consumed with rage. There was a blood lust coursing through his veins. A man blind with the need for vengeance.  He would deliver blow after blow thus becoming her avenging angel to see justice done in her name. _I fight for her._

He pummeled the filthy bastard in a trance-like fury reminiscent of his Viking berserker ancestors. He heard nothing, felt nothing, saw nothing other than the opponent before him.

He did, however, hear the voice of his Da. His Da had taught him how to fight, to defend himself.  _“Hit him in the soft parts, Jamie. Dinna waste time hitting yer opponent in the face. Ye’ll hurt yerself and no’ be able to defend yerself.”_ And he did as his father counseled him to do all those years ago. He struck his foe over, and over, and over again.

Slowly a soft musical voice began to cut through the haze in his mind. The voice called his name, told him to stop. The voice soothed him bringing him back. A hand so small, so fragile pulled him away stopping him from inflicting further damage. 

Jamie blinked and looked up, not sure of where he was or what he had been doing. He felt weak as a kitten. Looking down, he saw his clothes were a mess splattered with blood, fluids, and wine.  Someone called his name. Eyes the color of honey and fine whisky peered into his own. 

_“Sorcha”._  He spoke to her in the language of his forefathers, in the  _Gàidhlig_ , for he had no English.

“Come with me, Jamie,” the voice said. And he knew he would follow that voice wherever it took him.

Claire began to issue orders to the wait staff like a drill sergeant. Towels, bowls of ice, antiseptic wash, wooden dowels, tape, a plastic bag, and whisky miraculously appeared. Jamie’s scrapes and wounds were cleansed, each digit, each bone palpated, bringing with it a hiss of pain. The adrenaline and endorphins were wearing off. There were definitely broken bones. How badly broken she couldn’t tell for sure. At least there were no bones protruding from the skin. She used the dowels for splints, taping his fingers together, and placed his hand in a plastic bag sealing it closed.

Smiling at him, she eased his hand into the ice bath to help keep the swelling at bay. She poured him a healthy dram of whisky telling him to drink. 

_“Moran taing_.” He smiled back at her.

Unwillingly, she turned her attention to her former husband. A small blond woman was kneeling cradling Frank’s head on her lap stroking his forehead. She was dabbing at the blood seeping from his nose, wiping more blood from the corner of his mouth.

“You’re Claire, Fran, um, Professor Randall’s ex-wife? I’m Sandy Travers, his doctoral student.”

“Yes, I’m sure you are, my dear,” Claire said brusquely.

Pierre, the maî·tre d'hô·tel paced up and down sweat forming on his brow and lip. He began giving instructions of his own to the staff trying to resume order and business as usual. Guests were moved to empty tables away from the scene. Wine and liquor poured freely.   _Shit, how many dinners will I have to comp tonight?_

“Madam, I must call the police to report this ah, disturbance. I shall call for medical assistance for the gentlemen as well.”

“Pierre, I am Dr. Claire Beauchamp room 702.  Before you make any calls, let me finish examining the gentlemen and I will let you know what else needs to be done.” She smiled at him sweetly.

He gave her a quizzical look before acquiescing, “As you wish Madam.”

“Alright Frank, let’s have a look, shall we?”

“Keep your fucking Neanderthal boyfriend away from me,” he said glowering at Claire with his right eye. The left eye had swollen shut and blackened.

“He’s not a Neanderthal. He’s of Viking descent. Now hold still,” she said as she began to poke and prod his face and body.

Jamie had done a thorough job of beating Frank to a pulp. His nose was definitely broken. The orbit might be fractured and she was concerned about the tenderness in the left upper quadrant. 

“Does your left shoulder hurt?

“What doesn’t hurt? But, actually yes it does a bit.”

“You need to go to the hospital now. I am very concerned about the tenderness in your abdomen.” Thank goodness his belly was soft, not rigid.

“I’m not going anywhere until I see that fucker in handcuffs for assault and battery.”

“Then you want to call the police to report this?”

“You’re damn right I do!”

“In that case, I assume you are prepared to be arrested too? If you have Jamie arrested, I’ll have you arrested for sexual assault.  That was really very careless of you, to touch me that way in front of a room full of witnesses. So many of the women gave me their phone numbers offering to testify as to what they saw you do. Oh, and by the way, I kept all the love letters that your _doctoral candidates_ sent you. It will make for very interesting reading in court showing your sexual inclination. Don’t you think? Are you ready to be branded as a sex offender?”

“Claire, you wouldn’t.”

“Wouldn’t I just do that, ** _pet,_** ” she said caustically lightly patting him on the cheek. “It would give me great pleasure to ruin you, just like you ruined me and hurt Lamb. So, what’s it going to be, darling?”

Sandy looked from Claire to Frank. Her mouth open, her eyes wide with shock.

“Fr, Fr, Frank what does she mean by this? You told me I was the one you loved and there was no one else.”

“Oh, shut up, Sandy,” he snarled.

“You have a deal, Claire. No police. Just get me to a hospital. I’m not feeling well.”

“One more thing, you will never bother me or Jamie. There will be no contact, no threats of going back on your word ever, do I make myself clear? And you will stop using your students as your personal playthings. If you break any of these promises, I will make sure Dean Innes knows the reason why we divorced.  Did you know that Innes was a close personal friend of Lamb’s? No, I don’t believe that you did. He always wondered what caused our breakup. If you break your promise, I will make sure Innes knows what your academic counseling includes. I think he would find reading the love letters quite informative. I am no longer the meek and obedient child you once knew Frank. I will ruin you and enjoy doing it,” she smiled contemptuously.

“Excuse me Dr. Beauchamp, but I think I am going to be sick. I have to go.” Sandy lifted Frank’s head off her lap, laid his head down gently and stood up uneasily.

“I am sorry that you had to hear this my dear, but it is for the best.”

Sandy shakily nodded her head and left.

Claire gently propped up Frank’s head.  “I’m going to call Joe Abernathy to make arrangements for your admission. He’ll admit you discreetly.”

Frank rolled his eye. “Abernathy too, Claire?  Is there no end to your crass friendships?”

“You are a true elitist, Frank. Perhaps you would like for everyone to know what happened?”

“Call Abernathy, then. Be quick about it, I don’t feel well.”

And he didn’t look well at all. He began to develop a noticeable pallor. Skin becoming slightly sweaty.  She was afraid that he might be going into shock and commanded blankets to wrap him up in. 

She quickly scrolled through her contact numbers finding the one she needed.

“Joe Abernathy,” answered the male voice.

“Joe, it’s so good to hear your voice.”

“Lady Jane is that you?” he said with a wide grin on his face.  “Where are you?”

“I’m here in Boston. I was supposed to be at a conference, but it was canceled at the last minute because of the blizzard.”

“Conference? I don’t recall…well anyway, good to hear your voice.  What can I do for you?”

Claire proceeded to tell Joe about what happened and how she needed his help.

“LJ, you can’t be serious about this. The man molested you.  You need to have him prosecuted for this especially after everything he did to you.”

“I can’t risk Jamie’s career. He’s a brilliant surgeon and I won’t have it. Not on my account anyway. Besides Frank had to promise to stop using his doctoral students as sex objects in exchange for my promise to not prosecute him. If I can stop him from hurting anyone else, my silence is well worth it. Joe, please, will you help me?”

“Of course, I will. What about Jamie, you think he has broken fingers?”

“I do, I have splinted them. Now all I have to do is convince him to go to the hospital. They may need to be set.”

“I’ll send an ambulance. See you in a little while.”

“Thanks, Joe.”

“Frank, the ambulance will be here soon.” 

He grunted. “Is he coming with us?”

“No, you’re coming with us. Let’s get that straight. There is no you and me, Frank.”

“One more thing before you go, Claire.”

“What is it?” she said in an exasperated tone.

“I’ve been watching you with him all night. What is it that you find so appealing in him?”

“He’s a **man** , something you know nothing about.”

She turned on her heel and began to walk back toward Jaime.

Now all Claire had to do was to convince one very large and recalcitrant Scot to go to the hospital. 

_“Lord, give me strength_ ,” she prayed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I would really like to hear what you think of this chapter since it is so different for me. It was coming and I always knew that. Now we just have to deal with the after-effects of the evening.
> 
> Chapter 13 is in the works, but I don't know how long it will take me this time.
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter. Thank you for reading.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> BTW, the procedure went well. I did and still do have some post-procedure issues. (I had to go back to the hospital twice because I re-developed that crappy arrhythmia and needed treatment.) It has now been 5 days without any. Shush, don't want my heart to hear. LOL. Just dealing with the aftereffects of anesthesia which can last about 30 days in some people of which I am one. So all is well! I took all your wishes and prayers with me and they did a world of good. Thank you all.


	13. The Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.
> 
> Chapter 13 - Jamie's thoughts about what happened in the restaurant.  
> Claire remembers very painful events leading to her divorce. A hospital visit happens. A question is posed that may cause problems for our lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't express my gratitude enough to two wonderful people that give of their own time to help make this what it is. They also help to make me a better writer. Thank you so much to Curlsgetsdemgurls and Scubalass. Without both of you, this chapter would not be here. 🧡

**Edinburgh to Boston**

**Chapter 13**

**The Aftermath**

She was in her element. Healing. She would go to help anyone in need, young or old, rich or poor, good or bad. It didn’t matter to her. If someone needed her help, she would be there. He knew and loved her for it. But why did she feel the need to help Randall, especially after what he had done?

Jamie didn’t like it. He didn’t believe that the fucker deserved her assistance. In his opinion, if anyone cared to ask him, the bugger could just lay there and rot. He could rot here now and in hell through all eternity for everything he had done and just did to her.  He did feel a momentary twinge of guilt about these feelings, though, as he is a doctor too. This time, he thought, he could look away from his Hippocratic oath and do nothing to help. It made his skin crawl to watch her help him after he molested her. He wanted to vomit and felt the bile rise up, hot and bitter, burning his throat. Swallowing hard, he forced the acrid fluid back from whence it came. He could do something, he reasoned. He could pick her up throw her over his shoulder, albeit while she was kicking and screaming, and carry her as far away from the bastard as possible. Besides, he wanted to finish the job. To feel every bone in Randall’s body snap like a twig.  That’s what he wanted. He is a jealous and protective man when it comes to those he loves.  _But, Beauchamp!_  By Christ, the woman causes him to have this overwhelming need to keep her safe.  _Why_  does she make him feel this way?

Sitting there with his hand in the bucket of ice and a murderous look on his face, he took in the scene playing out before him. His eyes, like a blue-eyed eagle, roamed over the scene, watching, observing. Every movement, every slight nuance of body language or facial expression between them did not go unnoticed. He kept his body taut like the string of a bow with an arrow nocked and ready to fly free.  He would not be caught unaware again. One wrong move and he would pounce. If he broke more bones in his hand, what did he care? Better yet, one swift kick to the man’s bollocks should do it. Aye, drop him like a stone. He chuckled to himself at the thought. Fair’s, fair after all. The filthy git grabbed Claire’s mmhmm, why shouldn’t he kick his in for good measure. That would solve a myriad of problems. It would wipe that look off his face.  A look that said he still wanted her.

The rogue could not be more mistaken. The lass is his now and he would not give her up, not without a fight.

Abruptly, his thoughts took off in multiple directions.  _What had delayed her following him? Did Claire stop to talk to the man? Did he stop her from leaving? Damn, he hadn’t seen what happened. He wanted to leave in such a hurry to reach the safety of their room that he had no idea what transpired after he left. And she paid the price for his mistake._

_“God, Jamie, yer such an eejit,” he scolded himself. “How could ye go off and leave her behind like that?! Ye ken what the man is like. Ye shoulda given her yer arm to take, like a proper man. No’ leaving her to fend him off. Ye failed her when she needed ye the most. Ye promised to always protect her, see her safe. And what did ye do, ye great numpty? Ye left her.”_

An icy chill ran down his spine. It did not come from keeping his hand in the cold bath. His eyebrows arched, eyes opened wide, and his jaw hung open.  _Maybe she blamed him for what happened to her? “Weel, why not, ye do. Ye were no’ there when she needed ye, were ye? Ye showed up after he did her damage. Then, ye come running up to inflict yer own brand of mayhem and carnage.”_

_Maybe he took things too far, he wondered. Maybe she did not want vengeance laid at her feet. Would she think him a barbarian? What if she still wanted the filthy sassenach? Could she? If she did, could he be brave enough to simply walk away and let her be happy?  He froze at the possibility. “God, no! Please, dinna let it be true,” he prayed. Living a life without her by his side chilled him to his bones._

_A knot formed in his throat choking him. His chest tightened and his heart began to pound and squeeze.  Breathing came in short gasping gulps. Still analytical, he thought that this is what it feels like to die. Aye, better to die here and now than live without her. With his good hand, he fumbled to loosen his tie and open the top button of his shirt. Air! He needed air. Taking several deep calming breaths, his heart began to slow and his breathing normalized. Quieting his raging emotions, he realized he could deny her nothing even if it came at his own expense. If that's what she wanted, then he would find the strength to step aside and learn to live with only half a heart. For her, he would and could do anything._  He hung his head as a single crystalline tear ran down his face.

“Jamie love, does it hurt much?” she asked as she gently wiped the watery bead from his face with the pad of her thumb.

Looking up he beheld the glory of the sun in those golden eyes. Glistening wetly, his lashes clumped together.

“Claire, I thought, mebbe...I...I wasna sure if ye…Mebbe ye didnae want...” He looked at her with a helpless expression and fearful of what she might say or do.

“Tell me what’s wrong? Are you hurt anywhere else?” Quickly, her glass face became inscribed with worry while searching for additional damage. 

“Nay lass, I am whole except for…” He raised his large paw up showing it to her. His hand and splint remained dry but felt icy cold. The ice kept the swelling to a minimum.

Claire sensed that something _was_  bothering him, but she did not want to push him to tell her. She knew he would in his own time. Or at least she hoped he would. She decided to move on to a different pressing matter.

“Jamie, you need X-rays and an orthopedic evaluation. Joe Abernathy sent an ambulance for Frank. We can go in the ambulance with him. It will all be handled discreetly.”

His eyes narrowed and a dark shadow floated over his face. “ **NO** ,” he snarled hotly. I willna ride in an ambulance with that, that…” What followed was a string of Gàidhlig invectives the likes that Claire never heard before. She whispered a prayer of gratitude that she didn’t understand.

“You bloody stubborn Scot! You’re a surgeon and you need functioning hands. Has the thought occurred to you?” They were nose to nose now, glaring and hissing like two cats readying for battle. Neither would give in.

“Dr. Fraser, Dr. Beauchamp, may I offer my assistance?”  Padrick the hotel chauffeur inclined his head smartly to them. “I heard of the, um, unfortunate altercation,” Padrick turned to scowl at Frank, “and thought I might offer my services. I could take you wherever you need to go.”

Jamie turned his head to Claire giving her a smug look.   _See I told ye there was nae need to ride in an ambulance with yon villain._

She gave her head a small shake and rolled her eyes heavenward.

“Thank you, Padrick, we appreciate your assistance. We need to go to Massachusetts General Hospital. Dr. Abernathy is expecting us.  Do you think that someone could go to our room and bring our coats down?  Oh, and there is a large multi-color silk scarf in the closet, could someone bring that too?”

“I will speak to the hotel manager, Dr. Beauchamp. I’m sure something can be arranged.”

“Excellent. I’ll go speak to Pierre and tell him an ambulance is on its way. I’ll be right back, Jamie.” 

“Alright,  _Sassenach_.” He continued to scowl at the Englishman with an intense ferocity.

Claire approached the restaurant captain to tell him about the outcome of her discussions. “An ambulance is on the way for Professor Randall.  He chose not to press charges against Dr. Fraser. Likewise, I shall not press charges against him.” 

“But Madam, how can you let such a thing go unpunished?” he squeaked in shocked surprise. “This hotel has a reputation for turning its face away from many things, but this??”

“It is for the best for all concerned, Pierre.” Her gaze slowly gravitating toward Jamie. “But, thank you for your concern.” She took hold of both his hands and squeezed them lightly. 

“As you wish, Madam,” he shook his head in disagreement. “But should you ever change…”

“I won’t. I believe that he will keep his word. He has much more to lose than I do.”

The maître d' sighed shaking his head in disagreement.

Noise from the front of the restaurant signaled the arrival of the EMS crew. The female surgeon provided an outline of the patient’s injuries to the Paramedic.

The rescue team swiftly performed their own evaluation, lifted Frank, placed him onto the stretcher, wrapped him warmly, departing swiftly.

Padrick appeared with the requested coats and scarf. Claire quickly fashioned the scarf into a sling for Jamie’s arm. She helped him into his coat, as he clutched his injured hand against his chest.

“Thank ye,  _a leannan_ ,” he said leaning over to place a kiss on her forehead.

She smiled, took his uninjured arm, “Let’s go and get that hand examined, hmm, Fraser?”

“Aye, Beauchamp, as ye say.”

They walked out of the restaurant to hooting, cheering, and applause. Jamie turned bright red at the attention directed their way. 

“Um,  _Sassenach_ , just what did I do?” He looked rather embarrassed.

“You don’t remember, do you?”

“I dinna recall much. Just that I needed to make him pay for what he did to ye.”

“That you did, my lad. And you made him pay handsomely,” she smirked.  “Your Viking berserker ancestors have nothing on you. Just don’t make it a habit of going howling in the woods wrapped in a wolf’s hide while you’re starkers,” she added with a mischievous grin on her face.

“ _Sassenach,_  what are ye on about?” His eyebrows raised with a curious look on his face.

“Never mind,” giggled the archeologist’s niece.

The chauffeur had the car at the entrance of the hotel waiting for them. They entered the car and drove to the hospital in a comfortable silence.

Joe Abernathy stood sheltered off to the side of the ambulance bay waiting for his two friends.

“Claire! Jamie!” he called out when they arrived.

“Joe, it’s so good to see you,” exclaimed Claire. 

“Aye, it truly ‘tis a pleasure tae meet ye. Only I wish it were under different circumstances,” said Jamie as he waggled his hand.

“No matter. It’s wonderful to meet you.  I hope you have been taking good care of our girl here?” Joe inquired pulling his best friend into a warm embrace.

Jamie winced at that. His cheeks flush with the heat of shame; his guilt rising to the surface again.

“I’m doing the best I can, ye ken. She is no’ an easy woman to take care of, aye?” He ran his hand through his hair ruffling it so it stood on end.

Joe laughed heartily clapping Jamie on the back, “Brother, you have no idea! Come on, let’s get you to radiology.” 

A transporter with a wheelchair waited inside the bay and whisked Jamie away as he protested he could walk unaided. That idea was summarily vetoed. 

Joe’s attention shifted to his friend. “How are you LJ, really?” 

She turned her head away, not wanting to meet his eyes. Those golden hawk eyes now went hollow with the forced remembrances of a time longing to be forgotten. 

“Fine, perfectly fine,'' she uttered unconvincingly.

Abernathy stopped and took her by the shoulders, “That speaks volumes.  I know what that means. Now, what’s wrong, Claire? What are you not telling me? How are you after Frank...”

_It happened more than three years ago. She sat with Lamb in his home while he took in her battered and bruised appearance. She had tried to escape. What she got for her effort was a face smashed against the chest of drawers. A dark blue-purple contusion now blossomed on her cheek where her face had met wood. Her lips swelled, split oozing blood whenever she spoke.  The white flesh of her arms bore his finger marks. The imprints turned into livid purple things. Malicious mementos of his grip when he forced himself into her. Her broken nails stood in silent testimony to the fierce battle she had engaged in._

_Lamb gently took her hand in his wizened, time-worn one. She flinched as if to pull away from his loving touch. “Oh, my dearest girl, whatever has he done to you?” As he gazed upon the disfigured face of his beloved niece he heard the sound of his heartbreaking. It made a rather small, soft sound something akin to the snapping of the stem of a flower off at the root._

_“Honestly, Uncle, I’m sure you can see for yourself.” Claire wiped her nose on the back of her hand distantly observing the streaks of mucus stained with blood now smearing her hand. Pearls of moisture gathered at the corners of her eyes flowing like raindrops intent upon washing away all traces of the taint and tarnish that covered her. Overwhelming her._

_It took some time, but Lamb convinced his niece to seek medical help and to document her injuries. His lawyer met them at the hospital, gathered the needed information and testimony to begin legal proceedings immediately. The divorce moved forward uneventfully. She wanted nothing from her miserable marriage except her freedom.  She opted to not press charges for assault, battery, and rape fearing how the press if they got hold of the story, would portray the sordid details. ‘Niece of the renowned archeologist, Quintin Lambert Beauchamp, raped.’ would have made great headlines. Having her life and her sham marriage dragged publically through the mud became unthinkable, intolerable. Truthfully, she did not think she could face Frank during the trial, either. Fear of what degrading or demeaning thing he would say about her strongly eliminated any desire to prosecute him. She simply wanted to run and hide and never look back, putting all the pain and shame behind her.  She only wanted to begin her life over. As in cases of spousal abuse, the circumstances surrounding the severing of marital ties would remain sealed.  She and her Uncle left Boston upon receiving the divorce decree. Lambert Beauchamp died a few months later leaving her alone. With only her unwanted memories and her ghosts for company. She never mentioned what happened to anyone._

“Frank!” she snorted, hot with fury. “I’m embarrassed, humiliated, angry.”  _Befouled actually describes it better she thought._  “Honestly if I could, I would cut his heart out and have it for breakfast. But, I can’t do that can I?” Pressing the heel of her palm to her eye sockets, she willed away any chance of tears.

“I’ve decided not to prosecute Frank, although I would dearly love to see him behind bars.” _For this and everything else, he has done._  Claire began to pace gathering her thoughts into some cohesive form. “Trust me, I am not doing this to spare him anything. I’m doing this to protect Jamie. I don’t want him to do any further damage to his hands, bloody stubborn Scot! Or harm his reputation. He’s too good of a surgeon for that. It would be a great waste.”  Her eyes hardened from soft liquid honey to hard fossilized amber. Her voice and manner became laced with a steely determination. She set a course of action and made a commitment to seeing it through. 

“There is one other reason,” she exhaled wearily, “and that is to protect his students. Frank is a womanizer. I want to stop him from debauching any more naive young women. He is a brilliant teacher. He just can’t keep his hands to himself.” She knew what it was like to be held under his magnetic spell. Handsome. Debonaire. Cultured. Speaking in sweetened gilded words. The man, in essence, personified a true Lothario.

Joe looked at Claire, wide-eyed in disbelief, “LJ, it’s noble what you’re doing, but it’s still not right that he gets away unpunished for this.”

She reluctantly turned to face him, hands rubbing at both her temples, “I know, but it’s what I think, no, what I need to do.” 

“The real problem is with Jamie. I haven’t told him yet that I am not pressing charges against Frank. I know he’ll be upset when I tell him. But I can’t tell him now.” Her face was pale, lips a taut line, her countenance anguished. “I’m afraid of what he’ll do. You should have seen him there! My God, I thought he’d kill him if I hadn’t stopped him. I don’t want to lose him. I can’t.” 

“Do you love him LJ?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You need to be honest with him, you know.  You owe him that.” 

Conflicting emotions roiled in her belly. She struggled with the need to keep him safe against the need to be honest with him. “I will tell him. In Scotland.  He can’t do any more damage from there. It’s a risk, I know, but one I’m willing to take.”  

She turned away from her friend. Her mood becoming more pensive. Speaking softly, almost so only she could hear, “I can’t lose him. I won’t! Whatever it takes to protect him, by God, I’ll do it.” 

Jamie had become her heart and her soul. She would move heaven, hell, and anything else that came in her way to see him safe. To protect him. To keep him with her. He epitomized her last chance at happiness, for love. She loved him with more passion than she could have imagined possible.

 Beauchamp hesitated before continuing, “It’s been so long since I felt anything for someone else, you know since I thought I could open my heart to another. I kept it impounded, safe under lock and key. Then, _he_  comes along with those blue cat eyes, curly red hair, and  **boom**! He just walks off with my heart. How did he do that, Joe, just how the hell did he do that?” This was a rhetorical question, one that Claire already knew the answer to, but she got an answer anyway.

“Lady Jane, did you really ever consider that he is the one?”

“Yes. Yes, I have and that’s just the point. It frightens me. I’ve never felt like this before, certainly not with Frank.” Claire scoffed. She puffed out her cheeks exhaled strongly, “I’m just afraid that it will all come crashing down around me.  I don’t think I could bear it. I really don’t.” 

Her face anxious, she looked for reassurance from her best friend.

“C’ mon here, LJ,” Joe smiled opening his arms in a comforting invitation. She stepped readily into his open waiting embrace. “You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and so many other things. The man would have to be a real asshole to let you go.”

“You’re just saying that because I’m your friend,” she smirked jabbing him in the ribs.

“And that’s because you have excellent taste in friends.” He gave her a sly conspiratorial wink.

At that moment, Joe and Claire could hear Jamie’s loud raucous laughter as he returned. “And the altar boy said to the prostit... _Sassenach_!? Are ye alright, then?” His muscles tightened. His whole body becoming alert. He surveyed the area looking for a possible threat.

_What the hell happened now?_

She looked different like some interminable heavyweight threatened to pull her down into the boundless sea. Drowning her, stealing her life-force, taking her away from him. 

Producing a weak smile, Claire leaned over lightly kissing him on his temple, “Everything is fine, my lad, just fine.”

“Where are we to meet Dr. Nelson, Joe?”

“He’s waiting in exam room 6. Let’s go on over.”

Joe pushed the big Scot’s wheelchair toward the examining room.

“I’ll no’ go without Claire.” His tone became adamant. Twice he had left her alone and twice something happened. And he wasn’t there when it did. No more.

“Claire, _mon cher, ça va_?” A pretty petite brunette woman rushed up to clasping her warmly and kissed her cheeks. 

“That’s Louise de la Tour, ENT. She’s attending to Frank’s broken nose.  They were friends during their residency.”

“Aye, I see.” Jamie accepted this information.

“Joe, will ye tell me something honestly?”

“Of course, if I can,” he replied cautiously.

“What happened to Claire while I was having X-rays? I come back and she looks fair fashed.”  He looked questioningly at his new friend. 

Joe sighed, “You two need to talk about what happened. I told her she needs to be open and honest with you. You need to be truthful with her as well. There can be room for secrets sometimes but not lies.”

“Aye, that we do.” he began to wonder what she could have said. 

Arriving at exam room 6, they found Dr. Nelson, a squat balding man with soft dove grey eyes, intently reviewing Jamie’s films.

“Dr. Fraser, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I reviewed your radiographs and there are simple hair-line fractures of your right third and fourth fingers. Nothing serious. Immobilization with a splint for several weeks should fix it right up.”

Dr. Nelson re-splinted Jamie’s fingers as Claire walked into the room.

“Ah, the lovely Dr. Beauchamp. Your quick thinking to splint the injury prevented further damage.” He noticed a frown on Claire’s face. “Not to worry, just two hair-line fractures, nothing that rest, ice, elevation, and immobilization won’t fix,” he smiled reassuringly at her. “And we’re done. Follow up with your orthopedist when you get home. You will need some physical therapy to maintain your dexterity. Good meeting you both.” The orthopedist smiled tiredly departing swiftly longing for the comfort of his bed.

Claire leaned over wrapped her arms around her love pressing a kiss onto his burnished curls. “Alright my lad, I think it’s time we get back to the hotel. It’s been a long day and even longer evening.” A profound weariness cast its shadow over her face. Dark smudges visible around her eyes; her shoulders drooping with fatigue.

Taking hold of her hand with his one sound one, he lightly returned the gesture brushing his lips to the palm of her hand. “It has been a long and very eventful day  _mo ghràdh_. Ye look fair puggled,” he observed looking at her demeanor. “Ye need yer sleep.” 

They left the exam room hand in hand, fingers twined together. Spotting Joe, they called out their thanks, bidding him goodnight.

Walking toward their waiting car, Jamie looked at his Sassenach a question burning in his mind. “Claire, I ken ye would want Frank  _(he nearly choked on the name)_  tended to first, but I’m wondering, when will ye give your statement to the police about what happened? I had expected to see them here.” He wanted to see them there. He wanted to see the look on the bastard’s face when they arrested him for assault. 

Claire froze in place letting go of his hand.  All the color drained from her face, her mouth went dry, and her hands became as cold as ice.

“Jamie…”

“What’s a miss, _mo chridhe_? Are ye no’ well?” He came to her side in an instant taking her hand in his. “Yer hand lass, yer chilled through,” his face registering worry and concern. He pulled her close to him offer his warmth to her. “What’s wrong?”

She could not look at him. She prayed the floor would open up swallow her whole sending her deep into the bowels of the earth never to be seen again.

He placed his thumb and forefinger on her chin lifting up her face to look at his. “Tell me. Ye ken ye can tell me anything  _a nighean_.”

His hand warm, strong moved to cup her cheek. His thumb gently stroking her cheekbone.

Claire slid into his embrace, arms wrapped around his waist, her head resting on his chest. _Safe_. At this moment, she felt the security, love, and protection of his arms. She clung to him, wanting, _no needing,_  to feel the solidness of him, the strength of him against her for what she believed would come to be the last time. When she would tell him of the agreement she made with Frank, Claire knew everything between them would change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I would really like to hear what you think of this chapter. I am very interested in knowing your thoughts about what Claire went through that night with Frank. I am also interested in what you think about her withholding everything from Jamie since she knows it will cause problems.
> 
> Chapter 14 is in the works, but I don't know how long it will take me this time.
> 
> I hope you all like this chapter. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your patience. And thank you all for your support.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> Enjoy!


	14. The Argument: We Said More Than We Meant

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the story of Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp and James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser who are destined to be together. The problem is they just don't know it yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm back with a new fic that precedes A Call From The Mayor. it is a multichapter story. This is about how Jamie and Claire decided they were in love. Please bear with me, it is a slow burn.
> 
> I would like to thank two very special and talented betas curlsgetdemgurls and scubalass. Without their hard work, magnificent suggestions I don't know how I would ever be able to do this.  
> In Chapter 14 our lovebirds continue to grapple with the aftermath of the events that had occurred in the restaurant. Claire has some fear, anxiety, and anger while Jamie is dealing with insecurity and guilt. None of these feelings are a good mix. Many things are said in heat and anger.

**Edinburgh to Boston  
**

**Chapter 14**

**The Argument: We Said More Than We Meant**

 

Hyperawareness. All of her senses became heightened.  _Sight. Hearing. Smell. Taste. Touch._  She craved these sensations wishing to imprint them forever in her heart and mind. Because that would be all that would be left of these last moments with him after she admitted the truth. It would all go to hell after she told him how she traded her honor in order to keep his intact.

_Sight._

Looking up she took in Jamie’s vivid blue eyes, the color of a cloudless summer sky. He beheld her in loving adoration. Would he, could he ever look at her this way again? His glorious mane of hair thick, luxurious and curling at the nape. For the first time, she noticed it had a multitude of colors, cinnabar, gold, cinnamon, and the wee odd bit of silver. How she loved to run her fingers through his locks. Those lips, full, soft, and oh so tender. And what they did to her. She would miss these things. She would miss everything about him even looking at his scars. He thought them ugly, disfiguring. The deformity formed a webbing of thickened tissue, wheals, and ridges as if created by a blind and demented spider. She thought them noble. His badge of courage as she came to think of them. They embodied him, his true character, brave, selfless, compassionate, loyal. She shuddered with the thought of her imminent loss.

_Hearing._

Placing her ear over the center of his chest, she listened to the steady cadence of his heart.  Even and strong. At that moment she believed with complete surety, it beat only for her. Would it continue to do so, or would it change becoming discordant, erratic, or worse yet, perhaps silent to her?  The sound of his voice, deep, rich, and smokey like a fine aged whisky. When he spoke to soothe the frightened, his tone was soft, dulcet and as smooth as melted honey. And when in the throes of passion, his voice became husky, sensuous, tantalizing.  A voice that could ignite a blazing need in her smoldering in her core sending her to near completion. Fear overcame her that his heart and voice would grow cold to her. 

_Smell._

She took a deep breath, breathing him in. He smelled of wine, whisky, and a coppery tang of blood. Not his, but another’s. And there was something else. Something that could only be described as unique, heady, and blatantly male about his scent. A smell that one could only describe as Jamie. Warm, woodsy, with a musky essence. Would she be able to continue to inhale and savor his own personal perfume or would she be condemned to a life void of his fragrance?

_Taste._

The sense of taste embodied the essence of Jamie. His mouth, tongue, and breath exuded his own fundamental substance. And what they could do to her! They brought her to heights of pleasure causing her to shiver and her knees buckle.  His kiss! How his kiss intoxicated her! His kiss, rich and full-bodied as a fine red wine, inflamed her making her recklessly wanton. Oh, and the taste of his skin, salty with sweat after their exertions. Ah, to know the flavor of his manhood, tangy, musky. The looming loss of their intimacy made her want to weep.

_Touch_

She hungered for Jamie’s touch. She needed it like she needed air to breathe. Fingers linked together. Meaningless patterns stroked over her hands and body. Fingertips light, sure, dancing over her skin like the wings of a butterfly. Cupping her cheek in tenderness, melting into the caress. Safe. Always safe as he clasped her tightly to his chest surrounding her with his arms.  When he spoke, she could feel his burr resonate, vibrating in his chest. He virtually purred, she thought, much like a large ginger cat. His intimate touches. Large, strong hands slid over her cataloging every curve and dip. Embracing. The bold caress of mouth and tongue raining a trail fiery kisses down her body. They left her burning white-hot like the tail of a comet leaving the sun’s orbit causing her to quiver and scream. Would she survive without his touch? She doubted it and mourned its loss.

 

                                                                                           ********************

 

“ _Mo chridhe_ will ye no’ tell me what ails ye? I could see that ye were fashed about something after ye spoke with Joe,” Jamie implored. They stood near the ED door preparing to exit. Each time the door slid open a gust of cold wind brushed over their skin.

She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding.“Actually, I’m not sure how to tell you this. In all honesty, I thought I would wait until we returned to Scotland to tell you.” Jamie began to speak, but Claire raised a hand seeking his silence. “I’m not pressing charges against Frank,” she said bluntly.

Jamie’s jaw dropped open, his eyes widened. “Ye canna be serious. Ye must! I canna believe... He deserves to be punished, Sassenach,” he sputtered.

“No, I gave him my word that I wouldn’t press charges against him if he dropped his threat of having you arrested. I won’t allow it. I will not let you go to jail because of me. It’s simply out of the question.” She struck a defiant pose chin jutting out and tiger eyes gleaming daring him to challenge her,  “I don’t want you to have an arrest record even though you’re innocent because you acted to defend me. Christ, Jamie, think. You will have to report it at home to the licensing board, and the hospital. The documentation. The questions. The innuendos. You may come up for review. It will follow you forever.” She had chosen her path and no one, not even Jamie Fraser, could deter her from it. “I won’t let this happen to you because of me,” she said adamantly. Claire broke out of his arms giving him a piercing look.

“I see. And yer telling me I have no say in this matter then?” He stared at her angrily balling up his fists tightly at his side. His furor near out of control, like a volcano ready to erupt. 

“Frank assaulted me! I think I should choose what I want to do about it,” she retorted.

Jamie made a Scottish noise of disgust in the back of his throat. 

“Claire,”  he said with as much patience as he could muster, “I believed that as a couple, we should talk about things together, ye ken? Especially when it affects both of us. Ye made a decision about my life, my practice, and our relationship without consulting me did ye no’?”

He scrubbed his hand over his face, rucking his hand through his hair making it stand on end.

“Damn it,  _Sassenach!_  Ye take it into yer mind to do as ye please. First, ye dinna follow behind me. No! Why should ye? I’m only yer man, why come with me? Then, I hear ye scream and what do I see? Hmm? I see that bastard touching ye in a filthy and disgusting way! In front of the whole restaurant no less! People will think I’m no’ a man and canna protect my woman!” he huffed.

His Scots accent became increasingly broader, a sure sign of his increasing agitation. A burgeoning redness slowly crept up his face. He kept his teeth clenched firmly shut, narrowing his eyes to slits. Jamie looked like a man on the verge of exploding.

“Oh, your woman, your woman! So, you believe this is all about you, hmm? About what you think and how you feel? As you see it, I’m only fit to do as I’m told, huh? I’ll wager you think that this is all my fault, don’t you? Well, your bloody wrong about that James Fraser. Bloody wrong.”

“Wrong, ye think? If ye had followed right behind me, instead of doing god knows what none of this would have happened,” he snarled.

“Do you think I did that on purpose? That I deliberately let him touch me. Do you think I liked what he did to me? Well, you certainly need to reconsider your opinion.” Claire raised her hand to slap Jamie across the face. 

He caught her hand by the wrist before contact. “I would strongly suggest that ye dinna do that, Claire. Ye would regret it,” he growled fiercely. 

“Why? Will you beat me if I do? Like some 18th century man putting his wife in her place?” Tears burned in the back of her eyes. Damn it if she would let him see her cry. No man would ever strike her again.

Jamie’s eyes opened wide, his mouth hung open. Her implication struck him deeply as if someone punched him in the gut. She misinterpreted what he said. He let go of Beauchamp’s wrist. “Claire, no. Never! I couldna… wouldna ever,” he stammered. “Ye need tae believe me, I wouldna. All I meant was that you would feel bad if ye did. It’s not like you to behave like this.  Please believe me, I would never hurt ye,” he implored.

A crowd began to gather listening to them argue.  Someone had reported a disturbance at the exit of the ED to security. Two members of the team approached the scene warily evaluating the altercation.

“Is everything alright here?” queried Sargent O’Brien. Sargent O’Brien stood 6 feet tall just several inches shorter than Jamie. A trim man with dark chocolate eyes and sandy-colored hair he looked every bit the person in charge. His partner Officer Roberts, by contrast, wore his black hair clipped into a short crew cut. His emerald green eyes bore a striking resemblance to a snake. Small, round, beady, with thick lids. Powerfully built, he obviously served as the muscle for the pair. He made an imposing presence. The man unnerved Claire.

“Aye, Sargent O’Brien, Jamie said after reading the man’s name tag.  ‘Tis fine. It has been a long day and a long evening. ‘Tis nothing serious, we both said more than we meant.” Jamie looked to Claire for confirmation that she gave with a nod. 

Joe Abernathy strode purposely toward the fracas, “Officers, is everything alright?” 

“Dr. Abernathy, someone reported a disturbance. We came upon these people having a rather heated discussion.”

“Well, I can vouch for them,” said Joe. “They are close personal friends and had a pretty rough day.  I think they just need to go home and get some sleep.” He looked at both of them with eyebrows raised in suggestion. 

“Aye, yer right. Come,  _Sassenach,_  I think we should follow Dr. Abernathy’s advice.”

Claire walked over to Joe, gave him a kiss on the cheek whispering, “Thanks for rescuing me again Joe. You’re the best.” Likewise, Jamie shook his hand thanking him again.

They left quickly to their waiting car. Their behavior toward each other remained cool and detached. Jaime entered the car on the left while Claire got in on the right. Each sat back staring out the window engrossed in their own thoughts. The gulf steadily widening between them. They rode back to the hotel in self-absorbed silence.

 

                                                                               ******************************

 

Jamie opened the hotel door allowing Claire to enter first. Removing her coat and shawl, she let out a deep sigh of relief that the trauma of the night, hopefully, appeared over.  The Scot followed suit removing his overcoat and jacket. Neither of them spoke to the other.

Rummaging through her clothes, Claire found her black yoga pants and her favorite soft tee shirt. Taking both she went to change in the bathroom. Closing the door behind her she let out her breath. Muttering to herself,  _“Now what the fuck should I do?”_ She did not expect this type of reaction from him, sullen and uncommunicative. Normally, when things bothered him, he spoke his mind. Now...he spoke to her only if he had to. She washed what makeup that remained on her face off and changed quickly into her clothes. She suddenly did not feel comfortable wearing her nightgown in front of him now.

Jamie took advantage of Claire’s absence to similarly change. He struggled with buttons and zippers because of the splints but managed to accomplish his task. He dressed in his winter running gear. If you asked him why he dressed that way, he couldn’t have told you. He sat there on the edge of the bed, running his hand through his hair and over his face. _“Now what?”_ All through the drive back to the hotel, he asked himself the same question. An answer. That’s what he wanted and needed. She still held something back from him, but what? What could she not tell him, he wondered. What he really wanted to know, did she still love the bastard and want him. He never wanted to push her to tell him more than she seemed comfortable with, but he had to ask.

Claire emerged from the bathroom and cleared her throat to make her presence in the room known.  Looking at her, he thought she felt the awkwardness between them too.

“Fancy a dram, lass?”

“That would be nice.” She made no move to come near him. 

 _“Nice,”_ he thought. Could she have given a more bland answer? He poured them each a dram of whisky and gave her one of the glasses.  

 _“Slàinte_ ,” he said as he tipped the glass back drinking it in one swallow.

She sipped her whisky offering him a weak smile. He stopped calling her all the pet names he had for her. The ones that she couldn’t pronounce or even knew what they meant. She had never bothered to ask.

The Scot refilled his glass with a large measure of the amber spirit observing that it matched the color of her eyes. Jamie sat down heavily on the bed and began to roll the glass between his palms as if to warm the liquid. 

He looked up at her. She looked so small, so lost standing there as if she didn’t know what to do.

“Claire, I dinna mean to push ye to tell me something ye dinna want to, but I need to ken. I need the truth.”  He took a deep breath steeling himself to ask the questions he needed answered. Speaking softly with a slight tremor in his voice, “Do ye love the man? Do ye want him back? I mean after ye saw him, maybe ye had a change of heart. He was yer husband. Is that why ye dinna want him arrested?” He looked at her with the most pained expression on his face. A face in literal torment. 

She watched as the glass fell from her hand. The tawny fluid spilled out as the crystal spiraled downward. Hitting the hardwood floor, it splintered into hundreds of prismatic pieces reflecting the light of the room.

She stood in front of him shaking violently.  **“You fucking bastard!”**  she thundered at him. “I told you about him and what he did to me. The ridicule, the humiliation, the embarrassment. For years and years, it went on. Why would you even think...why would you suggest that I would want him back?” 

“You know what I think, Fraser? I think this is about you and your pride. You left me there alone.    He touched something that you believe is yours and you can’t stand it. Can you?” she growled.  Her hands were clenched tightly at her side. “You left me to fight him off on my own, to...to defend myself. You promised to always see me safe. And you didn’t.” She began to breathe rapidly in short rasping gulps trying to fill her lungs with enough air. “Now you have the gall, the unmitigated audacity to ask me if I still want him if I still have feelings for him? Jesus Christ, I can’t believe that you asked me that! Don’t you understand that it’s you that I love and only you?” 

_But you didn’t tell him the whole truth now, did you? That’s your dark little secret. He doesn’t know the depth of what happened. How could he understand any of this? You need to tell him and trust him._

There it was.  A flood of feelings rushing over her like a cataract of water making its downward descent. Anger. Helplessness. Terror. The memories of that night long ago. It became all too clear, all too vivid to her. 

 He stood, walking toward her, wanting to take her in his arms to comfort and console her. He wanted to erase what happened and replace it with his love.

“Claire, I…” 

She turned and strode away from him, arms wrapped tightly around her own body giving herself the comfort she believed he could not.

He looked at her wishing he could find something to say, something to do that would ease her pain, her grief. But nothing came to mind. What could he say? She was right. He had failed her in a most abysmal way.

Walking toward the closet, Jamie grabbed his jacket, took the room key, and picked up a bottle of whisky.

Claire watched as the big Scot walked over to the door and left the room. The last thing she heard was the sound of the latch as it clicked shut behind him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your interest in this story. It means so much to me.
> 
> I welcome any suggestions, thoughts, comments on the story. I would really like to hear what you think of this chapter. 
> 
> Chapter 15 is in the works, but I don't know how long it will take me this time. I am trying to get it done as quickly as I can. All I can say is have faith in Jamie and Claire's love for each other.
> 
> I hope you all liked this chapter. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your patience. And thank you all for your support.
> 
> You can find me at https://eclecticstarlightconnoisseur.tumblr.com/
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
